


Good Afternoon, Good Evening, and Goodnight

by thezeekrecord



Series: At Least You're Real To Me [2]
Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: M/M, freehoun but background also don't worry about it, got some pre-canon post-canon and some wild shit, knowledge of half life 2 is encouraged but not required
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 62
Words: 276,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26550925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thezeekrecord/pseuds/thezeekrecord
Summary: Half Life: the game everyone exists because of. "Reality" is a complicated mess, and the Science Team can only really start to untangle it all after they finally leave the game. Where are they now, though, if not a video game world that constricts them to very particular roles they were meant for? Who are they now after the game, if not NPCs, or the player? What exactly does it mean, to not be real? They may be living post-game domestic bliss, but that doesn't take away from the things they went through. They've got a lot to unpack.this fic is part of a series with my other pre-canon boomer backstory fic "could i try again, try again, try again?", but reading that isn't necessary to understand it, just additional fun if you're interested.
Relationships: Benrey & Tommy Coolatta, Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer, Tommy Coolatta/Darnold, pretty much everyone & everyone
Series: At Least You're Real To Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930819
Comments: 263
Kudos: 142





	1. REPORT: Regarding T.Coolatta and his involvement with the Nihilanth Project (pt.1)

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! rly quick preliminary stuff: like i said in the tags you don't have to read the other fic in the series, but it'll provide context to the way i write dr. coomer and bubby and they'll reference it from time to time! also Again like i said, hl2 (and hl: alyx!) knowledge is not Necessary, things that are brought up are explained anyway, but if you're planning on playing it....well you definitely have time, that all doesn't come up until later. but u know. there WILL be spoilers Eventually.
> 
> also ONE more note as always: if you're pro-ship, anti-anti, ""map"", etc etc, i don't want your support on my fics. fuck off
> 
> good luck in there i've done almost nothing but write this fic day in and day out ever since completing my last fic. thanks quarantine lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: mentions of animal testing/abuse (for dogs specifically, only discussed theoretically)
> 
> also i realized after writing all this that i'm pretty sure they use "he" for sunkist in the show but. i guess i saw someone use she/her Once and immediately latched onto that, so i use she/her for sunkist this whole ass fic. sunkist's gender is dog it's fine

Tommy laid flat on his back in bed, alarm drilling into his ears. His eyes were wide open, fingers laced together over his stomach as he simply stared up at the ceiling. He could move to turn off his alarm at any time. It would be easy—lift one hand, move it over to the nightstand, press the button, and the noise would no longer bother him.

What would be the point, though? It wasn’t like the alarm was real.

Tommy blinked. If he looked closely enough at the popcorn-textured ceiling, he felt like he could see past it—between the thin spots of “reality”, or the lack thereof, and into the static of nothingness. It was always so close, but so far away. Maybe this time, though, just _maybe—_

“Dude, can you fucking turn that off, please?” His roommate demanded from the other side of the small room.

Tommy let out a sigh, finally making his move to click the alarm off before he looked back up at the ceiling. No, after being shocked back into his body by the movement, he couldn’t see it, anymore; everything was normal.

Deceptively so.

Tommy rolled back over in bed and closed his eyes. He had class soon, but he couldn’t find the energy to convince himself yet again that a completely fake, obnoxiously stressful system was worth putting his time into. If he was _supposed_ to graduate college, he probably just would. The cogs in “reality” were automatic, ever turning, and everything would always be where it was supposed to be. So whatever he did, he was sure he’d always get strung along to his place in life—whether he made the effort or not. Like a river. If you just get in, the water’s just gonna drag you downstream anyway, so what’s the point in paddling?

By the time Tommy’s class started, he started to feel the inevitable guilt wash over him from skipping yet again. What if it _did_ matter? He wondered as he finally rolled out of bed. He’d have to apologize to his professor, beg for an excused absence again. He hated doing that. He’d been such a star student in high school, so what made college so fucking _difficult?_

Tommy collected some clean clothes and padded down the long hallway of other dorms towards the communal bathroom. Another thing he hated about college. Take public bathrooms, a trans person’s worst nightmare, and make it a constant fixture in his life until he could finally get his own apartment. What he _really_ needed was a paid internship—get some experience in his desired field, earn some money for rent—that’d be a win-win. Aside from the extra work load, of course.

After a quick shower, Tommy grabbed his bag and headed down the stairwell to get to his next class. He’d missed calculus, so now that just left a lab, then he could slink back to his dorm and contemplate the fabric of reality over his homework.

He was about halfway across campus when he felt a strange lurch in his stomach at the sight of an older man wearing an expensive suit, looking directly at him. He had cold blue eyes that caught strangely in the sunlight—it brought to mind the glowing eyes of a dog in the night, nothing but two bright orbs drilling holes into the darkness. Exactly like that except, of course, this was a human man in broad daylight. The man straightened his tie and approached Tommy.

“Hello, there—Tommy Coolatta, I, presume?” The man greeted with a strange, faltering tone.

“Uhh. Yeah.” Tommy replied. This was weird, right? He got strange vibes from a lot of people that he just had to learn to accept, but this felt _very_ strange. Still, he did his best to remain polite.

“It’s very good to meet you, Tommy.” The man went on with a small smile. “I’ve heard a lot about, your, talents—I would like to speak to you about a...job opportunity.”

“...What kind of job?”

The man pulled out a business card from his jacket pocket, holding it out to Tommy. Tommy accepted it, looking down at it curiously. Holy shit, it was a Black Mesa business card—no name on it, just a general hiring phone number instead.

“After speaking with, your, professors, I have recommended you to the ‘Human Resources’ department.” The man explained. “I think you would be a...fine fit.”

Tommy furrowed his brow, pressing his index finger into one of the card’s sharp corners. “...But...I’m working on a doctorate for bioengineering.”

“Of course. But don’t you think your, talents, are being...wasted here?” The man asked, nodding to the general campus around them. “If you move to the, ‘Human Resources’ department, you could have the opportunity to, train directly under professionals...in your desired field. It would be a much, much better use of your time.”

Tommy bit his lip as he thought about it. This was _way_ suspicious, but Black Mesa was a reputable company that he’d heard plenty about. It might not hurt to at least take a break from his classes for a while, earn some money before coming back and finishing his degree...

“Think it over, Tommy. A position will always be open for you.” The man said, turning to leave.

Tommy wanted to call after him and ask him more questions, but as soon as he blinked, he was already gone.

****

Through the strange strings of fate, Tommy Coolatta was now an official Black Mesa employee. He had his own private dorm, an employee badge, his own office—it was such a startling adjustment from college, where he was always sharing his spaces with someone else and essentially paying them to make him miserable. The training process for his position was a struggle; absolutely none of his college experience applied to HR responsibilities, but he eventually got it down, and he felt more accomplished than ever when he received his first paycheck.

It was nice, actually. People respected him. They turned to him for answers, trusted him with important work-related matters. Rather than just another face in a crowd of struggling students, he was a man people would call upon when they needed help. Despite the stresses of the job, he couldn’t possibly imagine going back to the helpless feelings that came with college.

There was, of course, the disappointment that seeped through after a while, though—running around to other departments to meet with busy scientists that were doing ground-breaking research started getting to him. _He_ had wanted that. He wanted to learn things, apply his knowledge to something that could further their understanding of bioengineering; or anything, really. HR was nice, he liked being relied on, but that novelty was gonna wear off pretty soon if he didn’t get that promised training.

Once he finally got up the courage to ask his manager about it, his duties were split up. He could go and provide an extra helping hand to other departments as needed, as long as he still retained some of his HR responsibilities—fine by him, he thought. He picked up a lot of interesting knowledge he probably never would’ve gotten if he had stayed on that same path through college, though only bits and pieces—sometimes things he couldn’t fully comprehend with such little technical knowledge of the required field. What he _did_ know fairly well was bioengineering, though, making him a much more valued assistant in a couple particular departments.

The first one was where an interesting Black Mesa project, Bubby, was made. Tommy had met the final product of their efforts before in anomalous materials—he was rude, and Tommy had received many HR complaints about him. He knew what he was doing, though, and on very rare occasions, he would _sometimes_ display a bit of a soft spot. Tommy learned a lot about creating sturdier, stronger creatures in tubes through this, something he found himself deeply fascinated by.

The second one was something he couldn’t fully understand, with all the red tape of confidentiality. The scientists in this part of the Lambda lab were strangely cagey about Tommy’s questions in ways the other departments he’d helped never were; he’d just receive mysterious samples to run specific tests on, but he never got the privilege of knowing where they were from. Many of them glowed inside the glass vials, swirling gradients of bright colors. Tommy wasn’t sure how to describe the results he received; whatever this stuff was, it was jam-packed with chemicals found in the brain, among other things. It wasn’t always the same—usually, though, once Tommy had been doing this long enough, he could offer a pretty good guess based on the color gradients.

That wasn’t the only thing he was running tests on, though. There was a great variety of other things—sometimes a tarry black goo, other times skin samples from all sorts of creatures, things that _seemed_ like skin samples but didn’t seem to originate from anything that Tommy was familiar with, sometimes sharp, unfamiliar teeth—it sure kept him on his toes, but it only made him more and more deeply curious about what the hell this section of the Lambda lab was up to.

There was a section of this lab that was closed off to him—a section where all the “real” work was being done, that the other scientists walked in and out of freely, guarded by two very bored looking security guards stood at either side of the door. Tommy would stare curiously through the door any time it was opened—not that he could ever see anything from that angle. Curiously, Tommy noted, he saw almost as many security guards walking in and out as he did scientists; he didn’t think that section was big enough to warrant so many guards. Whatever was going on in there, they sure were putting more effort into guarding the inside than keeping people out.

Very strange indeed.

Being in the lab so frequently, Tommy got to know several of the scientists well enough—in a workplace acquaintance kind of way—along with one of the security guards. He was a little shorter than the rest and seemed a little spaced out most of the time, more eager to hang around and talk to people than he was to actually work. Not that they necessarily seemed short-staffed in the Lambda lab, of course, so it was probably fine. He’d frequently stop by the table where Tommy would take up residence, going on extensively about video games while Tommy worked. He was cool, Tommy thought. Even if the guard was more into platformers that Tommy never got into, in a lab filled with older scientists who scoffed at video games as a whole concept, that still left them with a lot more in common with each other than anyone else.

“And he says to me, ‘an A press is an A press, you can’t say it’s only a half’. But I have explained _so_ many times what half an A press actually is.” The guard prattled on in a southern drawl as Tommy stared at a small portion of a sample under a microscope, taking notes on his observations. “The actual _release_ of the button isn’t as important as pressing or holding it for any given action. You remember me telling you about this, right?”

“Mm-hmm.” Tommy replied.

“Right. So for Wing Mario Over the Rainbow—”

“Ben!” Another guard shouted as he entered the lab. “I keep telling you, leave the scientists alone, they’re busy.”

“It’s alright.” Tommy told the other guard.

“Nahhhh, I’d better listen to him, he’s the _boss._ ” Ben said in a dramatic, sarcastic tone. “I guess I’ll just have to talk to you _later,_ Tommy.”

Tommy snorted. “Okay. Bye, Ben.”

The lab returned to the quiet buzz of other scientists hard at work as Ben followed his boss further into the lab. He was nearing the end of his work for the day when an ear-splitting, wailing alarm sounded in the lab. Tommy nearly dropped his vials in his surprise, looking around with wide eyes at the other scientists who began scrambling either inside the closed-off section or out of the labs entirely. Nobody made any move to fill Tommy in—but he could pretty well deduce whatever was going on, he didn’t want to stick around.

Tommy followed a couple scientists out of the lab as more security guards ran down the hallway towards the lab, guns drawn. He followed the scientists until they were out of the Lambda lab, and even when the older scientists stopped to catch their breath, Tommy kept going.

It was a mixture of fear of the unknown threat and something else that kept Tommy moving. He powerwalked down the quiet halls—past people who had no idea there was some massive alert happening down in the Lambda lab—sat on the tram, tapping his foot impatiently, and rushed into his office in HR, closing the door firmly behind him. With a sigh, Tommy reached into his lab coat pockets, pulling out the samples he’d been carrying in the lab.

It had been an accident, at first. He’d just been too concerned about getting out of the lab to care about what he was or wasn’t carrying. He’d realized halfway out of the Lambda lab, and, well—it was a perfect opportunity to try and figure out just what the hell he was working with without worrying about confidentiality, so why pass it up?

Tommy stored the samples in his desk for the time being, finished up some other work before he took them out again and headed deeper into Black Mesa. In his time getting used to finding the correct scientists to talk to in the correct departments, he’d gotten lost a number of times—accidentally stumbling across a floor filled with labs currently not in use. Tommy shuffled through a few of them, collecting as many materials left behind as he could find before he set it all out in the lab furthest from the elevator.

In one container, Tommy had that strange, glowing liquid—deep blue, a color he’d come to associate with calming chemicals. In the other one, he had what looked like a normal skin sample. Tommy turned it over in his hands, looking at it closer. It was collected by incisional biopsy, so it was a pretty good chunk of skin tissue; the edges should have been sharp and cleanly cut. He hadn’t noticed anything odd about it when he’d originally accepted the sample—as he stared at it now, though, the edges were rounder, messier than they should have been if they were cut with a scalpel. Tommy furrowed his brow, staring at it for a long time before finally setting it down and preparing to investigate.

Tommy wasn’t sure what he had expected out of stealing these samples. It wasn’t as though he could do anything more with these samples than he’d already been doing—if he wanted to know more about the Lambda lab’s activities, what he really needed was to get into that part of the lab that was closed off. Despite it all, he wasn’t curious enough about the tests they were running to break and enter; he may break some rules like this when the opportunity came up, sure, but he wasn’t the type to pull something like that.

What he _could_ tell from the skin sample, though, was he was fairly certain it came from a dog. Not abnormal, necessarily, but it _did_ tug at his heartstrings a little despite his conviction as a scientist.

Tommy sighed by the time he’d done all he could, packing away the samples and heading back to his dorm. As he walked down the hallway of defunct labs, he paused at the sounds of other people cheering in one of the rooms. Tommy carefully placed the closed vials in his lab coat pocket again, cracking open the door just a little to peek inside curiously. There were a bunch of scientists inside, two of them currently wearing boxing gloves and throwing punches. Tommy closed the door. So, his thing was to sneak away to do forbidden science—other people’s thing was to secretly beat the shit out of each other. Well, a defunct, unmonitored section of the facility was bound to attract many interesting types of people, he thought to himself.

Tommy kept the samples in a cabinet in his dorm for the next few days, returning for about half his work day to the Lambda lab for more tests before heading back to his office. Just business as usual, really. The Lambda team was exhausted after whatever had happened, though—Tommy couldn’t get much out of them about what had happened, but apparently, there had been some massively close call with _something._

Tommy only returned to the samples one night as he was digging through his cabinets, trying to find his pain medication when the skin sample caught his eye. Tommy paused, lifting the container off the shelf and turning it over in his hands with wide eyes. It was bigger. _Definitely_ bigger than it had been originally—it had fit perfectly fine in the center without contact with the edges of the container while he was first examining it. Now, though, rounded flesh pressed firmly against the edges, molded into a perfect circle.

What do you do when you realize you have a regenerating sample in your dorm that you stole? Take it back? Tommy wondered, leaning against his counter and staring at it in awe. Taking it back would be the smart thing to do. Either just leave it nonchalantly on a table, or just fess up for his crimes entirely. Then again...

Tommy was too curious to just leave it be.

It was late at night, so Tommy had ample opportunities to swipe some more equipment from other labs he’d worked in to take down to the empty labs. Still in his pajamas—with the proper PPE worn over them, of course—Tommy excitedly observed the sample. So, the Lambda lab was working on regeneration? On dogs? Not even Bubby could regenerate like this—Tommy was privy to the knowledge that he certainly healed faster and cleaner than humans, but that still provided disappointing limitations. Also, on top of that, Bubby was _aging_ , just like almost everything else on the planet. This sample, to Tommy’s great fascination, had cells that repaired themselves _entirely_ upon splitting off. There was likely to be no limit to how much this sample could regenerate, _and_ Tommy was fairly certain whatever dog this sample came from would never die—of old age, at least, or any particularly intensive wound, for that matter.

The idea was incredibly exciting, Tommy had to admit—it was absolutely genius to create a dog that could never die—but the excitement drained quickly when he stared down at the sample in his container. Complicated morality and the vague idea of what possible greater good this could serve aside, Tommy didn’t like to imagine an immortal dog being tested on like this by Black Mesa.

Tommy tucked the samples back into his pocket, heading straight back out to the Lambda lab. He had no idea what he was going to do when he got there—he’d just be admitting he stole from the lab, potentially even lose his job—and besides, even if they admitted to keeping an immortal dog in the lab to test on, what was he going to do about it, best case scenario? Steal the whole dog? Maybe he just wanted to know they were treating the dog well, all things considered.

Regardless of intent, Tommy arrived at the lab soon after, staring down the security guard posted outside the door into the main lab that Tommy was forbidden from. There was another scientist working late, here—a Bubby prototype, Tommy noted. Bubby looked Tommy over, quirking an eyebrow at him. If this was the prototype Tommy was familiar with, he didn’t have a tendency to talk much, so the expression he gave Tommy told him everything.

“I—I was...” Tommy started, then stopped. He sighed quietly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the skin sample for Bubby to see. “I accidentally took the—umm, when the alarm went off, I didn’t put it down, and...well...”

Bubby approached Tommy, taking the container from him and looking it over curiously.

“I w—...this is a sample from a dog, right?” Tommy asked.

Bubby looked back at Tommy, making a non-committal gesture with his hand.

“It _definitely_ wasn’t this big when I first had it.” Tommy went on, indicating at the way it pressed at the container’s sides. “If—if this is vital research, I get it, this is incredible! But I...the dog...”

Bubby let out a sigh, pocketing the sample and waving his hand for Tommy to follow him. Tommy complied eagerly, following close behind as the guard stepped aside to let them in. There was a long hallway of labs—nobody else here aside from grave shift security guards who scrambled to make themselves look more presentable as Tommy and Bubby walked through. Bubby took Tommy to the very last door at the end of the hall with another guard. Through that final door was a massive round room, one long continuous hallway with all sorts of different equipment surrounding the center of the lab, blocked off by glass. A single other exhausted looking scientist greeted them from a computer console as they stepped inside, revealing the thing being contained in the enclosure in the center. Bubby stepped to the side, allowing Tommy to step in further and get a closer look.

Tommy was normally a busy man after taking up his job at Black Mesa, leaving him little time and energy for anything else. He _had_ bought himself a Playstation as a celebration of his own steady income, though, and tended to spend his weekends playing games. It wasn’t like there was much else for him to do—other Black Mesa employees would spend their spare time with friends, and Tommy...well, as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t really have friends. Meaning he could get fully immersed in his video games. One thing came up after a while, though; he’d been playing Final Fantasy VII, but somehow, his game got corrupted. Textures got mixed up, and the models stretched at weird angles, jittering strangely as they moved.

What Tommy saw in front of him wasn’t _exactly_ like that, but it did bring that experience to mind as he tried to look at what was contained in the center of the room. It was huge, but small. Human-shaped, but dog-shaped—it was everything, and it was nothing. Its shape shifted and glitched as it moved, and it absorbed the light that shone down on it to shine it back at strange angles, leaving it in a perpetual silhouette. Tommy’s voice caught in his throat, head aching as he turned to Bubby. Bubby offered him absolutely no explanation, and Tommy didn’t have the ability to ask any questions.

They stood there wordlessly, watching the thing inside the enclosure for what felt like an eternity before Bubby indicated it was time to go. Tommy turned to leave, but stared back at it for a moment. He placed a single hand on the glass. Maybe it was the mental image he’d just had moments before of a poor, sad dog being held in containment in Black Mesa, but something in his heart broke just a little looking back at whatever was inside the glass. It made absolutely no sense to be sympathetic towards something he couldn’t even comprehend, right?

Bubby tapped Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy nodded, finally following Bubby out of the lab.

****

The Bubby prototype from that night had taken back the skin sample, but Tommy wasn’t left with nothing. He _had_ split off a tiny piece to put under the microscope, and when he returned to it, it was just as vital—perhaps even moreso—than Tommy had left it. Again, what do you do with a regenerating skin sample? It’s not like it was just going to die off. There were probably plenty of ways he could dispose of it, but Tommy was beginning to wonder if there was a better way he could use it.

Tommy was lonely, to say the least. He had many workplace acquaintances. The Coomer clones were usually friendly, and he could even find himself on the notoriously cruel Bubby prototypes’ good sides. There were several other fully human scientists he talked to on occasion as well, plus there was Ben, though he hadn’t seen him in a while—he wasn’t _entirely_ alone. But, despite Tommy’s best efforts throughout his life, he never quite found out what that magic _thing_ was that made one jump from “acquaintance” to “friend” with someone. Not to say he’d never had a friend before, but within the walls of Black Mesa where Tommy spent all his time now, Tommy was a very, very lonely man.

Maybe he’d just been thinking about dogs too much as well, when he sat back down with the sample and some other equipment he was going to need. But hey, dogs were easy to befriend, and he was now an adult fully capable of deciding on his lifelong commitment to one. Besides, how could he resist the challenge? However the sample had been collected from that strange creature in containment, for whatever reason, he was left with dog cells out of that rather than something just as glitchy and terrifying as what he had seen. It would be an incredible feat if he managed to make some offshoot of it, particularly one that could be his friend.

It hadn’t been quite as easy as he’d hoped to get the desired result, but with his knowledge he’d picked up in the lab they had created Bubby in and the cloning department all the Dr. Coomers had come from, Tommy finally managed it. His work was highly rewarded by a large, living, breathing golden retriever puppy laid out on the table in front of him.

She made a quiet yipping sound, punctuated by small blue orbs that floated from her mouth. Okay, whatever that was was an accident, but he could study that later, Tommy thought. Her eyes were still squeezed shut, fur damp from the liquid she’d been grown in inside the tube, but she seemed to be taking the adjustment well. She squirmed awkwardly, whimpering as she struggled to her feet.

“Hi!” Tommy greeted gently with a wide smile. “I’m Tommy.”

The puppy sniffed curiously in his direction, stumbling towards him. Tommy nearly teared up as he gently picked her up, cradling her against his chest. She was approximately the size of a healthy human baby, so if all went according to plan, she was going to grow to be an extra large dog. Perfect. She had no mother—just like him, he couldn’t help but think—so he was in for a lot of extra care to keep her comfortable. Being the scientist and responsible pet owner he was, he was already prepared. He picked up a milk bottle he’d already prepared for her, beaming with pride as he fed her.

“I’m naming you after my favorite drink. Sunkist.” Tommy announced to her. “Do you like that name?”

Sunkist made a little whimpering sound as she drank from the bottle. It was absolutely anthropomorphizing, Tommy knew this, but he liked to think she was affirming it was a fitting name.

Taking care of Sunkist while working was a little trickier than he’d imagined. She was meant to be immortal, so there was no severe life-or-death risk if he didn’t stick to the strict feeding schedule, but what kind of owner would he be if he didn’t provide her the absolute best he could? He woke up every three hours to feed her and withdrew from the extra science projects to hide away in his office, juggling phone calls, paperwork, and puppy care responsibilities. He was currently feeding Sunkist again at his desk, eyes drooping with exhaustion when he heard a knock at his door.

“C-come in!” He called, fumbling to place her in her heated bed underneath his desk. He quickly sat back up as the door opened, revealing...

Ah. It was only Bubby. From the familiar, vaguely friendly look on his face and the way he was dressed—he didn’t wear the tie like all the prototypes, this one wore a light blue sweater underneath his lab coat instead—this was the one he had trained under in anomalous materials for a couple weeks before moving to the Lambda lab. Tommy let out a relieved sigh. He trusted Bubby not to rat him out for having a secret dog in his office, at least, and he didn’t have to know where Sunkist came from.

“Tommy, I’m so sick to fucking death of all the other moron assistants I’ve been assigned.” Bubby complained as he entered the office. “I _really_ need you to come back to anomalous materials if we’re gonna get anything done.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Bubby. I’ve—I’ve been kinda swamped.” Tommy said hesitantly. Another scientist appeared in the doorway behind Bubby—Dr. Coomer, Tommy recognized, but he couldn’t exactly tell which one.

“Actually, Tommy, I was hoping you might come to my department!” Dr. Coomer said with a smile.

Bubby elbowed Dr. Coomer. “Your department is doing _fine_ , Dr. Coomer. Quit trying to take him.”

Dr. Coomer opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Sunkist let out a tiny bark underneath Tommy’s desk. The three of them all fell silent. Sunkist yipped again.

“Is that...” Dr. Coomer looked at Tommy’s desk with wide, hopeful eyes. “Is that a dog?”

Tommy sighed, reaching under his desk to show Sunkist off. He swiped some papers to the side to set her down on the desk as a gigantic smile spread across Dr. Coomer’s face. He was at the desk in an instant, scooping Sunkist up and cradling her to his chest like a baby.

“She’s beautiful!” He practically squealed, gently scratching her belly. Sunkist kicked her back leg out as he scratched her in just the right spot, Bubby moving in to hover over Dr. Coomer’s shoulder curiously.

“Why do you have a dog in your office?” Bubby questioned.

“Mmmm...she’s...” Tommy averted his eyes sheepishly. “I can’t just leave her in my dorm, she’s—she’s too young right now to be left alone.”

Sunkist yipped again, the blue orbs Tommy had gotten so used to floating up towards Dr. Coomer’s face. Dr. Coomer and Bubby stared at the orbs, then looked to Tommy wordlessly.

“That’s...” Tommy hummed as he tried to think of a reasonable explanation. Eventually, though, he gave up, and sighed in defeat. “I made her. She’s—she was a, uh, secret...private project.”

“You _made_ her?” Dr. Coomer repeated in awe. “This is excellent work, Tommy! What inspired you to make a dog?”

Dr. Coomer beamed at him, and Tommy couldn’t help a warm feeling that washed over him. It was one thing for someone to be compliment his efforts or even be amazed by his work, but Dr. Coomer wasn’t only admiring the work. He was _prideful._ Tommy’s accomplishments meant something to him. Tommy couldn’t say it was unwelcome; just...unfamiliar. He could get used to it, he thought. Tommy fiddled with his pen on his desk. “Well...I was lonely in my dorm, and...I’ve always wanted a dog, but I could never get one, in the—in uhh, where I grew up. And—and I learned how to make her just by going around to all the other departments to help out. So...”

Bubby crossed his arms, looking down at Sunkist. “Well, this is a fine display of your knowledge.” He said in a cool, professional tone. “You did what a whole team of scientists had to do together completely on your own. That’s...admirable.”

Bubby was still hovering over Dr. Coomer, staring down at Sunkist intently. Tommy smiled tentatively.

“You can pet her if you want, Dr. Bubby.” Tommy invited.

Bubby looked up at Tommy in surprise, then gave Dr. Coomer a meaningful look before staring back down at Sunkist. “I...suppose it wouldn’t hurt to inspect your work.”

Dr. Coomer carefully handed Sunkist over to Bubby. Bubby wasn’t quite as loving as he held her, but was gentle as he turned her over, “inspecting” her closely. “She’s abnormally large for her age, isn’t she?” He asked.

“I did that on purpose.” Tommy replied. “Big dogs are better.”

“Right you are, Tommy!” Dr. Coomer nodded in agreement.

Bubby hummed thoughtfully, his fingers gently scratching her back where he probably thought Tommy couldn’t see. “This is fine work, Tommy. Good job.”

Tommy smiled shyly. “Th-thanks, you guys. She’s, umm, supposed to be immortal, too.”

“ _Immortal?_ ” Bubby echoed in astonishment. “I’m not even immortal! How did you manage that?”

“Well...”

“What on Earth is going on in here?” An unfamiliar voice asked from the hallway.

Tommy’s heart raced with panic as he leaned over to his right, peering past Dr. Coomer to look in the doorway. There stood none other than the administrator of Black Mesa himself—Dr. Breen. Tommy shot out of his seat, taking Sunkist back from Bubby and holding her to his chest defensively.

“There’s no _dogs_ allowed in the Black Mesa facility unless they’re here for testing!” Dr. Breen scolded. “Honestly, I was on my way to talk to you because I heard you were making great developments helping in other departments, but this is just unprofessional.”

“It _is_ for testing.” Bubby said coolly. “This is groundbreaking research Tommy is conducting. He’s not only replicated the results from _my_ tests entirely on his own, but improved on it. Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

Tommy kept his mouth shut, frowning deeply at Bubby.

“Yes, it’s my professional opinion after working with Tommy in several departments that he should be allowed to continue his research.” Dr. Coomer added helpfully.

“Do you have anything to back up your claims?” Dr. Breen questioned. “How is this an improvement? We already created the perfect scientist with superhuman abilities. A _dog_ isn’t necessarily improving on that, is it?”

“She’s...she’s immortal...” Tommy murmured hesitantly.

“She’s what?”

“Immortal.” Tommy repeated slightly louder.

Dr. Breen let out a dry laugh. “I don’t buy it. No, I’m sure this is just a regular d—”

As if on cue, Sunkist yipped again, spewing out blue orbs before Dr. Breen’s eyes.

“...Hm.” Dr. Breen held out his arms expectantly towards Tommy. “I’d like to take a look, if you don’t mind.”

Tommy took a small, nervous step back.

“Now, Tommy, I’m sure Dr. Breen won’t harm her.” Dr. Coomer said, putting a comforting hand on Tommy’s shoulder, but he looked pointedly at Dr. Breen, using a somewhat harsher tone than he normally did.

“Of course not. Who do you take me for?” Dr. Breen scoffed. “I may be a man of science, but this isn’t exactly a lab environment. I would just like to look at her.”

Tommy finally passed her over uneasily, biting his lip as he watched Dr. Breen inspect her, much in a similar way to Bubby. Holding her carefully in one arm, he forced Sunkist’s mouth open with the other, brow furrowed as he investigated in her mouth closely.

“Uhh, what...” Tommy paused, tilting his head. “What are you doing?”

“That...orb thing.” Dr. Breen said hastily. “You don’t know what it is?”

When Dr. Breen took his hand away from Sunkist’s mouth, she snorted, looking mournfully back at Tommy. Tommy shook his head.

“I—I don’t.” Tommy admitted. “She’s always done it since—ever since I took her out of the tube, it always happens when she barks. Sometimes it’s other colors, but...usually it’s blue. I’d study it closer, but...I’ve been really busy.”

“I’d imagine so. You grew her all on your own?”

Tommy nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“Do you have anything to back up your claim about her immortality?”

Tommy fiddled with his tie in his hands anxiously. “Well...she’s _supposed_ to be, theoretically.”

Dr. Breen looked thoughtful, handing Sunkist back to Tommy. Tommy relaxed significantly with her back in his arms, taking a moment to bury his face in her fur before looking back up at Dr. Breen.

“Very interesting.” Dr. Breen murmured. “I _don’t_ like that you were performing unauthorized tests with Black Mesa equipment and materials, but...if your theory is correct, this could be very good for Black Mesa.”

Tommy pressed his lips into a thin line, looking back down at Sunkist.

“How would you feel about transferring permanently to the Lambda team to conduct a full study on your dog?” Dr. Breen suggested.

“Uhh—I don’t—I don’t really want to... _study_ Sunkist like that.” Tommy denied. “I already made her, she’s—just, kinda...my dog, now.”

Dr. Breen didn’t look too pleased by that. He huffed, straightening out his suit jacket. “Mr. Coolatta, do I need to remind you that you made—what was her name, Sunkist? You made Sunkist with company property. As such, she doesn’t technically belong to you.”

Tommy bristled, backing away until he collided against his desk. “No! She’s my dog, I made her!”

“You didn’t receive _any_ authorization for your project.” Dr. Breen argued. “You—”

Tommy gritted his teeth. Something familiar _clicked_ in his head as he blinked slowly, and in his deep frustration, everything around him felt like it was swimming through molasses. At least, everything but Dr. Breen. Dr. Breen looked around himself in surprise, but Tommy wasn’t in any state to analyze this. He just stood taller, gripping Sunkist tightly in his arms.

“I didn’t make Sunkist to be studied.” Tommy hissed. “I’m not gonna abandon her just for science. I made her to—to be my friend, so she’s _my_ responsibility, and I’m not giving up that easy. I’ll—I’ll help repeat experiments, but this is _my dog._ I’m keeping her in my dorm. Okay, Dr. Breen?”

Dr. Breen nodded wordlessly.

Tommy let out a breath, and he started to feel a little more normal. Sunkist looked up at him, wagging her tail and resting her chin on his chest with a deep sigh. Tommy smiled down at her, scratching her ear as Dr. Breen seemed to be having trouble breathing, for some odd reason.

“Fine.” Dr. Breen huffed. “Keep your dog. I’ll—I’ll be calling you later to discuss your position.”

“You’re—are you going to fire me?” Tommy asked in dismay.

Dr. Coomer and Bubby glared at Dr. Breen, and he immediately shook his head. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant that obviously your... _talents_ are being wasted in HR.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Dr. Breen gave the group hasty goodbyes before he turned to leave, closing the office door behind him.

“...What happened just now?” Bubby asked, quirking an eyebrow curiously at Tommy.

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it would be that easy to change his, uh, change his mind.”

“It’s always good to shake some sense into that man.” Dr. Coomer said with a satisfied smile.

“If you don’t get transferred to anomalous materials, I’m gonna be so fucking mad.” Bubby growled. “I’m sick of working with all these goddamn idiots that must’ve tripped into their degrees.”

“Oh, but his talents could be incredibly helpful with me!” Dr. Coomer said.

Tommy laughed shyly, scratching Sunkist’s side. “Oh, I don’t know, I—I guess we’ll see.”


	2. REPORT: Regarding T.Coolatta and his involvement with the Nihilanth Project (pt.2)

Tommy ended up getting transferred to the Lambda lab officially after his HR responsibilities were passed on to someone else and Sunkist was old and well-behaved enough to be left in his dorm. He did, however, agree to bring her in only once as a demonstration of what he’d accomplished. One of the scientists took the time to explain what the Lambda lab was doing, to an extent—and that only left more questions.

Tommy knew some of Black Mesa’s goals based on his work in anomalous materials—using mysteriously acquired samples, they were trying to find a way to instantaneously travel to and from another planet confirmed to have life. That made sense to Tommy as something they would want to accomplish; but what he was shown inside the Lambda lab changed his perspective on things significantly. They had _aliens_ in here. Honest to god, literal aliens. Tommy had thought they’d only been transporting inanimate objects—rock samples, rovers, etc—but these were _actual aliens_ being kept in containment in the depths of Black Mesa. He only saw one type; little round things that almost looked like uncooked chickens with legs that ended in sharp claws—they seemed to have about the intelligence of chickens, too, but he still felt pretty bad, seeing them being contained in small cages so far from home.

“So...what is that, in the big lab, then?” Tommy asked the scientist who had been showing him around.

The scientist frowned, nodding for Tommy to follow him to the massive lab. When stood before the incomprehensible creature again, they stared at it in a long silence before the scientist spoke again.

“We call it the Nihilanth.” He explained. “While we were transporting subjects here to Earth for testing, we received...this, as well. One of our contacts who helps provide us samples suggested the name, I believe, but told us to keep our testing with it to a minimum, as in this state, it’s... _unpredictable._ ”

Tommy stuffed his hands in his lab coat pockets. “So...is it not _supposed_ to look like that?”

The scientist shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like it. Our contact sure was surprised when he got a good look at it, and I’ve _never_ seen him react to anything weird we’ve shown him. We have no idea what it’s supposed to be, but apparently—as proven by your dog—we can pull almost anything from it at random when trying to collect samples. The regenerating tissue wasn’t necessarily a new development, but we never dared to try and clone anything out of it. Your dog hasn’t shown any strange...shapeshifting abilities, has it?”

Tommy frowned and shook his head, looking back at the Nihilanth.

The scientist patted Tommy on the shoulder, physically turning him around to lead him back out of the lab. “Try not to look at it for too long, if you can help it. Many report migraines after observing it for a while.”

As they were stepping out of the lab, Tommy stopped as he heard singing. He turned back around, looking into the chamber as orbs of light in beautiful gradients floated up towards the ceiling. Tommy looked at the scientist quizzically.

“Oh, that.” The scientist nodded. “Yeah, it does that sometimes. That’s what we had you testing every now and then—a guard called it the ‘sweet voice’ once as a joke, and I guess it caught on.”

“You don’t even know what it is?” Tommy asked.

The scientist shrugged.

“Sunkist does that, too.” Tommy said thoughtfully, stepping back inside the lab to stare at the orbs slowly floating towards the ceiling, getting sucked into a hose built into the top. “You know...I’ve been starting to, um, wonder something.”

“What’s that?”

Tommy turned back to the scientist. “The colors change depending on the mood she’s in. And—and based on the way the sweet voice has certain chemicals in it, do you think...do you think it’s trying to communicate?”

The scientist crossed his arms, looking into the chamber. “Yes, we thought about that a little bit. That’s why we had you running so many tests on the sweet voice. Ultimately, though, it doesn’t seem like there’s any rhyme or reason to what it’s attempting to say. We think in the state it’s in, whatever cognizant thought it may have been capable of before just isn’t possible, now.”

Tommy frowned deeply. “Well, how can you be sure about that?”

“Listen, Tommy, if you want to stare at colors all day, be my guest.” The scientist said with a shrug. “Before that, though, I could actually use your help with some other samples we’ve collected.”

Tommy followed the scientist back, and was thrust into intensive work. Now that he was an official part of this small section of the Lambda team, he was given a great deal of responsibilities—though he managed to receive sweet voice study as one of those responsibilities after insisting it was vital to know what the Nihilanth was trying to say. Honestly, he wasn’t thrilled that this point had even needed convincing—the Lambda team didn’t seem to be too concerned about the ethical implications of their work. All the more reason for Tommy to stay, try and collect evidence that the Nihilanth was capable of communication so they could move from there and potentially send it—and all the other aliens—back.

The Lambda team required at least one scientist to be present in the Nihilanth’s chamber at all times to monitor its activity. During the daytime, many other scientists would be milling around doing minimal observations and testing—after the main hours of operation, though, that just left observation duties, and typically only one scientist and one guard would be posted inside the lab to watch over it. The nighttime observation shifts were only four hours, meaning each night, they needed four volunteers. Everyone had settled into an unofficial volunteer schedule, but Tommy gladly took over other people’s shifts for them several times a week so he could have some relative peace while he studied the Nihilanth’s sweet voice.

It didn’t sing often, but Tommy collected as many samples as he could when it did. Just as the others had tried to convince him, it didn’t seem like there was much of a pattern that he could work off of—but Tommy was determined to figure something out. He was in the chamber one night, taking the second shift and hunched over a little shitty desk, head rested in his hands as he watched the Nihilanth patiently when the door opened unexpectedly. Tommy stared through the glass towards the door, watching one of the Coomers approach—the way he walked in confidently, he didn’t seem like the Coomer clone Tommy normally worked with.

“Hello, Tommy!” Dr. Coomer greeted with a smile. “It’s me! The original Dr. Coomer.”

“Oh! Hi.” Tommy greeted back awkwardly. “Ummm...are you like, _supposed_ to be in here? You’re not the Dr. Coomer who works down here.”

“Well, probably not, but I know plenty about the Lambda team’s operations already.” Dr. Coomer admitted. “ _And_ I know you’ve been overworking yourself a little.”

Tommy stared up at Dr. Coomer in surprise. “Well, you know the Nihilanth needs—it needs to be watched 24/7.”

“Of course! But my clone has noted you’ve been taking quite a lot of shifts.” Dr. Coomer said, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside Tommy. “I think it would be in your best interest to go get some sleep, Tommy. You can’t expect to be making scientific breakthroughs with such little rest.”

“But I _have_ to do this.” Tommy argued, nodding back to the Nihilanth. “It’s—it’s trying to _communicate_. And nobody else on this team is listening! It’s trapped here, and—and—nobody cares that it’s trying to tell us something. Wouldn’t that be horrible? To be taken to some...some alien planet and contained, and written off like you’re not—like you’re not even capable of...of...basic thought, just because you can’t speak their language?”

Dr. Coomer frowned, placing a comforting hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “...That would be terrible, Tommy. You’re right. What we’re doing here, it’s...it’s dreadful.”

Tommy let out a deep sigh, enjoying Dr. Coomer’s friendly presence beside him as he looked back at the Nihilanth.

“It would be unfair of me to—not to put in my best effort.” Tommy went on. “If it’s trying to tell us something, I—as someone part of this...this fucked up project, I have a responsibility to try and fix this whole mess.”

Dr. Coomer nodded in understanding. They sat in silence there for a little while, Tommy watching the Nihilanth with growing exhaustion. Maybe Dr. Coomer was right on some level, he started to think—running himself ragged like this might slow down his progress. Tommy rubbed his eyes, picking up one of the vials filled with a liquefied sample of the sweet voice, swirling with a combination of purple and green.

“I have ideas for what the colors mean.” Tommy said, setting down the vial. “They’re mostly just based on Sunkist’s behavior, though, and I don’t—I don’t know if, like, it’s gonna be the same, if I tried to apply my...my _idea_ for their meanings on the Nihilanth’s intent. Most likely, Sunkist would have created her own...like...language with it, since she didn’t have any other sweet voice users around her. You know how, like, cats learn to meow at us because—because they learn that it gets a response from humans? That’s sort of what I’m thinking must have happened with her.”

Dr. Coomer put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “Tommy, have you ever tried bringing Sunkist in here?”

Tommy looked at Dr. Coomer, hoping he would elaborate.

“If Sunkist can use the sweet voice, it might be worthwhile to see the Nihilanth’s reaction to her speaking.” Dr. Coomer explained. “You may be able to parse patterns when something using its own language attempts speaking to it.”

A massive, excited grin spread across Tommy’s face. He slapped the desk enthusiastically several times with his open palm, gripping Dr. Coomer’s sleeve with his other hand. “That’s—that’s a great idea, Dr. Coomer!” Tommy reached into his pocket, taking out his keys and placing them in Dr. Coomer’s hand. “Would you go get Sunkist for me, please?”

“Well, I was sort of thinking this ought to be something you attempt _later_ , after getting some s—”

“ _Please_ , Dr. Coomer?” Tommy begged. “I won’t be able to sleep at all if I don’t do this now!”

Dr. Coomer smiled back in defeat. “...Oh, alright. I’ll be right back. What dorm do you live in?”

Tommy told Dr. Coomer the location of his dorm, pacing in circles anxiously around the chamber as he waited impatiently for him to return. Finally, Dr. Coomer arrived back in the lab with a sleepy looking Sunkist, who greeted Tommy with a few licks on his hand. Tommy smiled fondly down at her, stroking her head gently.

“Sorry to wake you, Sunkist.” Tommy apologized. “Thanks, Dr. Coomer.”

“Of course!” Dr. Coomer replied. “I greatly admire your dedication, Tommy. More scientists here could use your conviction.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Th-thanks, Dr. Coomer.” Turning back to Sunkist, Tommy gave her one more friendly pat before getting to work. “Sunkist, would you mind barking for me?”

Sunkist complied, barking several blue orbs enthusiastically. Tommy turned eagerly to the Nihilanth, waiting for a response. It took a moment, but just as Dr. Coomer had predicted, it began to sing a gradient of green to red. Tommy slapped Dr. Coomer’s shoulder several times excitedly with both hands.

“It replied! It replied!!” Tommy gasped. “Sunkist, can you do it again?”

Tommy eagerly scooped up a clipboard, scribbling down notes as Sunkist and the Nihilanth began—apparently—speaking to one another. Tommy could glean from Sunkist’s behavior that she was excited about this development, and the Nihilanth...well, it was difficult to tell. It wasn’t like he could see any body language from it, and even if he could, it was an alien—the body language of a dog was much easier to read than an alien’s. Tommy got some definite patterns from Sunkist, but none from the Nihilanth—he saw dozens of different color combinations before Sunkist eventually grew bored, leaving them in silence.

“If only I could...I had more control over this.” Tommy said thoughtfully around the end of the pen he was chewing on. “Sunkist is smart, but I don’t know if I could, umm...dictate to her what colors to use.”

“Either way, Tommy, you just made an _incredible_ breakthrough.” Dr. Coomer said with a proud grin. “Perhaps more will come to you once you get some sleep, hmm?”

“I can’t sleep now! I just got more—more information than I’ve gotten in _months!_ ” Tommy complained.

“That’s _exactly_ why you should get some sleep.” Dr. Coomer said firmly. “Go along, I’ll take over the rest of your shift.”

“But—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer this time, Tommy.” Dr. Coomer insisted. “I’m certain all the information you’ve gathered will make far more sense once you’ve slept.”

Tommy sighed in defeat. “...Okay. Thank you, Dr. Coomer.”

****

Dr. Coomer had been right that Tommy desperately needed more sleep than he was getting, but to Tommy’s great disappointment, his notes didn’t make any more sense the following morning. It was, at least, a major breakthrough to prove that the Nihilanth responded to its own language, but he got the feeling it wasn’t going to be enough.

Tommy took a tangent from trying to find patterns in sweet voice usage to return to studying the sweet voice itself. If he could find a way to control it himself in order to communicate specific colors of his choosing at the Nihilanth, that could be massively helpful to his research—but even with a deeper knowledge of the sweet voice than anyone else on the Lambda team, he felt out of his depth trying to figure out how to recreate it. When Tommy felt as though his brain was on the verge of exploding, he stood from the desk in the Nihilanth’s lab, deciding he might feel a little better after a lunch break.

Tommy took an empty seat in the cafeteria closest to his lab, resting his aching head in one hand as he sipped at a soda. Think about something else, he told himself. He closed his eyes, trying instead to focus on the sounds around him.

“Tommy!”

Tommy jumped in surprise, turning to face Dr. Coomer, followed by Bubby. They seemed like _the_ Dr. Coomer and Bubby, Tommy thought—he normally didn’t see them eating lunch together in this section of the facility. Dr. Coomer took a seat beside Tommy with a bagged lunch, though, followed by Bubby with a tray of shitty cafeteria food.

“How is your research going?” Dr. Coomer asked curiously.

Tommy let out a deep, exhausted sigh, resting his forehead on the table.

“That bad?” Bubby asked flatly.

“I understand more about the sweet voice, now, but...” Tommy paused, sitting up to rest his chin in his hands. “I just...don’t know how I can get enough control of it to try to talk to it myself.”

“‘Sweet voice’?” Bubby questioned. “What the hell are you doing down there in the Lambda lab?”

“Oh, yeah, I—I sort of forgot you’re not...the Bubby I work with.” Tommy muttered sheepishly.

“I get that a lot.” Bubby scoffed.

Tommy took a brief moment to explain his dilemma to Bubby.

“I don’t know, communicating with some incomprehensible Eldritch alien monster doesn’t sound like a great idea.” Bubby commented. “Besides, even if you’re able to convince the Lambda team to send it back, based on what I’m hearing about it, that could take a massive amount of power that we may not be able to save up again. Taking things from Xen is one thing, sending them there is another—I’m sure it’s a wonder we even managed to _get_ it here.”

“Exactly! We managed to get it here, so we should be able to send it back!” Tommy argued. “We—we have a responsibility to set things right, Dr. Bubby.”

“Hey, I’m sure you’re right.” Bubby said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “But our technology is unpredictable. We’ve had hiccups before. It’s entirely possible we dragged something here that we’re _not_ going to be able to send back.”

“Perhaps we ought to take this one step at a time.” Dr. Coomer suggested gently. “Tommy, if you paired with somebody from the cybernetics department, then perhaps they could help you create a device to utilize the sweet voice.”

“Oh!” Tommy exclaimed. “That’s a great idea!”

“Always the cybernetics with you.” Bubby muttered.

“I’m always happy to help a good friend.” Dr. Coomer replied with a smile. “I’ll connect you with one of my friends in the cybernetics department, I’m certain she’ll be eager to help you.”

Tommy grinned. Dr. Coomer considered Tommy a good friend? “Thank you so much, Dr. Coomer.”

Dr. Coomer followed up on his promise, and Tommy worked closely with a very enthusiastic employee of the cybernetics department by the name of Beatrice, giving her as much information as he could about the sweet voice and what he needed it for. After several weeks, Beatrice finally got back to Tommy, informing him she had a concept for how to utilize the sweet voice.

It was a little more intrusive than what Tommy had been picturing. He’d thought she might make some sort of handheld device—what she presented to him was a cybernetic enhancement to his vocal cords. While she babbled on about the usage of the body’s naturally produced chemicals as a fully controllable source, rather than having to constantly collect the ingredients needed to feed into a device, it made perfect sense to Tommy, but _damn._ It wasn’t a possibility he had been mentally prepared for when he woke up that morning. He took a little bit to think about it; it _was_ the best method of using the sweet voice, but that sure was a permanent change to his body, wasn’t it? After sleeping on it, Tommy made his decision. As long as it had a chance at furthering his research, it was for the best—plus, it _would_ be cool to be able to do himself, even after he no longer needed it. He put in his volunteer request and was processed and scheduled within the day.

Dr. Coomer and Bubby showed up before Tommy’s surgery as emotional support, easing his anxiety about the procedure immensely before he was wheeled into the lab. Beatrice wasn’t shy about telling Tommy exactly how excited she was about this project as she strapped a mask over his face to deliver the anesthetic—and Tommy wasn’t sure whether the excitement was comforting or not, but if nothing else, at least he didn’t have too much time left to be nervous before he was out cold.

Tommy didn’t know immediately how well the surgery went when he woke. He had been directed to try and avoid speaking at all costs for the next two weeks, and not to use the sweet voice for the next five weeks—so he spent the first two weeks of his recovery in his dorm, visited several times by Dr. Coomer and Bubby. Despite Tommy’s extreme eagerness to get back to work, it was nice to have some time where he quietly showed his interests to these two old men who had verbally confirmed to him that they were his friends. Dr. Coomer and Bubby weren’t too excited by the video games Tommy tried to introduce them to at first, but Tommy tried a different approach, dragging out his SNES and showing them a game he was certain might catch at least Dr. Coomer’s attention.

“Super Punch Out?” Dr. Coomer read off the cartridge. “Oh, I _do_ love punching.”

Tommy nodded enthusiastically before starting up the game for him. Dr. Coomer got _way_ into it—before Tommy knew it, it was two in the morning, and Dr. Coomer still showed no signs of exhaustion while Bubby snored on the couch. Tommy smiled, stroking Sunkist’s head gently as he nodded off himself.

****

The day finally came when Tommy could attempt using the sweet voice. Beatrice had requested to be there when he tested it out—he couldn’t allow her into the Lambda lab, so he headed down to the cybernetics department that morning to show it off. Tommy cleared his throat, averting his gaze nervously as Beatrice stared at him with an expectant, excited smile.

Tommy took a deep breath and made a long, strained “ _aaaahhh_ ” sound—with no sweet voice to show for it. Tommy’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“Ummm...I’m not...sure how to use it.” He muttered.

“C’mon, you gotta _sing._ ” Beatrice encouraged.

Tommy cleared his throat again and sang a single note. This time, Tommy’s eyes widened as pink orbs shot out of his mouth, floating up towards the ceiling, just like Sunkist and the Nihilanth. Beatrice pumped her fists enthusiastically.

“ _Yesss!_ First try!” Beatrice exclaimed in excitement. “How’s it feel?”

“Weird.” Tommy replied with a small laugh. “It...it has a taste, too. It tastes like...like, ummm...pink.”

“Fuck, dude, it sure is pink.” Beatrice said with a nod. “Try some other colors! Remember, it’s based on pitch.”

Tommy complied, singing a long rainbow of sweet voice. Normally, Tommy despised singing in front of others, but the reward of colorful orbs coming out of his mouth from it was enough to get him excited about showing it off. After Beatrice announced she had another surgery to get to, Tommy rushed back to the Lambda lab, bursting into the Nihilanth’s room and practically pressing himself up against the glass, ignoring his coworkers who stared at him curiously.

“Nihilanth! I can use it now!” Tommy shouted. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and sang a few blue orbs at the glass.

The Nihilanth almost immediately sang back, green to red—just like when Sunkist had been introduced. It could be a coincidence, sure, but that was the first and strongest lead to a pattern Tommy had gotten in all his time studying the sweet voice.

“Holy shit, _what?_ ” One of the scientists questioned as Tommy scooped up a clipboard to begin taking notes. “Is _that_ what your voluntary surgery was for?”

Tommy nodded with a grin before turning back to the Nihilanth, repeating green to red back at it. They did this for a long time, repeating gradients back at each other as Tommy took extensive notes. After the day was over, Tommy gripped his clipboard tightly in his hands, rushing straight to the administrator’s office. He didn’t even bother knocking—in his extreme excitement to finally be so close to his goal, Tommy threw the door open, standing in front of Dr. Breen’s desk and bouncing on his heels. Dr. Breen stared up at him wordlessly in shock.

“Dr. Breen!” Tommy exclaimed, holding out the clipboard for him to look at. It wasn’t presentable at all, but Tommy figured this would require more of an in-person demonstration than a beautiful looking report. “I’ve been studying the—the sweet voice extensively ever since—the Lambda lab, I’m—the Nihilanth...”

“Mr. Coolatta, would you at least take a second to collect yourself before you try telling me what this is about?” Dr. Breen interrupted impatiently.

Tommy paused, took a deep breath, and did his best to clear his head. “Ever since joining the Lambda team, I’ve studied—I’ve been studying the sweet voice. I believe it’s been trying to communicate. I tried telling the...the head of the Lambda team, but he said it wasn’t—there wasn’t enough evidence. So I gathered evidence. I found patterns in the color gradients—the sweet voice, it uses specific colors for specific, ummm, specific reasons. I think it’s intelligent, and it’s—it’s unethical to keep it here in Black Mesa. We should send it back to Xen.”

Dr. Breen’s expression didn’t change. All he did was raise an eyebrow, fingers laced together as he stared at Tommy.

“Sure, it’s intelligent.” Dr. Breen finally said. “The thought crossed my mind. That’s no reason to spend time and resources on sending it all the way back though, Mr. Coolatta. A thing like that, we’d have to put everything on hold for—what, a year? A year and a half, at best?—just to eventually save up the resources and power to _barely_ send it back in one piece. I’m not going to bring everything to a halt just for whatever that thing is. We have deadlines to meet.”

Tommy frowned deeply, gripping the clipboard tight in his hands.

“Besides, don’t you have the Nihilanth to thank for your dog?” Dr. Breen questioned, leaning back in his chair. “Think of all the scientific marvels that could come from having it to test on! Would you really be so eager to send something like that back?”

“...Of course I would.”

Dr. Breen shook his head. “Mr. Coolatta, I appreciate you’re concerned for the Nihilanth’s wellbeing and whatnot, but you have to think of the bigger picture here—”

Tommy felt that _click_ in his head again as he leaned forward, pressing palms on Dr. Breen’s desk. Dr. Breen leaned back, shoulders growing tense as he glanced around himself in surprise—though Tommy didn’t care what for.

“I’ve put too much work into this!” Tommy said through gritted teeth. “We brought it here! We can’t be—we can’t just keep it here because _you_ don’t want to fix what you caused. I don’t care how long it takes, I don’t care how many projects we have to—we have to put on pause, the _right thing to do_ is send it back to its home.”

“Tommy.” Dr. Breen practically hissed. “You have no idea what it is.”

“Neither do you!”

“Is it even going to _survive_ back on Xen?” Dr. Breen demanded. “When we transported it here, _something_ happened along the way. It’s unstable. If you want to send it back, _you’re_ going to have to figure all this out for yourself—exactly _what_ it’s supposed to be, how we can fix it after whatever happened during transport, how much it would cost us to fix it, how much it would cost on top of that to send it back— _everything._ Are you really willing to take that responsibility?”

“Yes!” Tommy answered whole-heartedly. “If nobody else in this fucking facility will do it, then I will.”

“Fine then. If you can give me a completely comprehensive report on all of that, I’ll consider it.”

Tommy didn’t move, staring at Dr. Breen with a deep scowl.

“ _Fine!_ If it’s satisfactory, I’ll accept your request!” Dr. Breen caved, sweat beading up on his forehead. “I’ll do what you want, just—just stop whatever this is, okay?”

Tommy took his clipboard back and stepped away from Dr. Breen’s desk, relaxing a little as he started to feel more normal. He wasn’t quite sure what Dr. Breen meant, but he’d gotten what he wanted, sort of. It was a step in the right direction. He nodded, exhaustion creeping up in his muscles as Dr. Breen sighed in relief.

“I’ll give you partial to full clearance to whatever department you need to get your report done.” Dr. Breen said, pressing his fingers to his temples. “However much time you need, take it—just...don’t do that again.”

Dr. Breen _really_ didn’t like confrontation, Tommy noted as he nodded again.

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Coolatta?” Dr. Breen asked, exhaustion in his tone as he looked up at Tommy.

“Hm?”

“Why do you care so much about that thing?”

Tommy fiddled with the clip on his clipboard as he thought his answer over. “Well...I mean, it’s just the right thing to do. Do I—do I need a big answer for that? It’s just...morality. I don’t need a reason to have a strong moral code, Dr. Breen.”

Dr. Breen let out a tired chuckle. “When you’ve been in this business for a while, I think you’ll understand my position a little more. Science and morality don’t necessarily get along.”

“What? No.” Tommy shook his head. “Just because you’re a scientist doesn’t mean—you can’t just excuse your actions like that. I think you’re probably just a bad person.”

Dr. Breen stared at Tommy in surprise.

“Thanks for ok’ing my project, Dr. Breen.” Tommy said politely, turning to leave the office. “I’m gonna go get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me @ myself writing all this: https://64.media.tumblr.com/a3a13e9c3a33795223655f4873843bac/f98787fc4653359f-d0/s500x750/a445ee10bc797f4ced650acebe9b03b3140cd81e.png
> 
> also maybe some of this isn't. necessarily In Character for tommy but hey maybe he was a little more rowdy in his 20's? i got too excited about the concepts lol


	3. REPORT: Regarding T.Coolatta and his involvement with the Nihilanth Project (pt.3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i got too excited about the worldbuilding for these few chapters agshgks so. more of that for this update. i promise this fic is more than just the nihilanth project i just had to build all this stuff up first

The report was a massive undertaking, and Tommy had absolutely no experience with half of the things he was supposed to be doing. He wasn’t going to let that stop him, though. Science was more his thing than budgeting and cost estimates—he headed back to the Lambda lab, gathering as many of the reports he could about the Nihilanth and looking them over. The most consistent, solid thing about the Nihilanth they were capable of studying was the sweet voice; anything else, results were inconsistent. Reach in with their fancy remote-control arms, try to take a sample, and get _anything_ —dog skin, a chunk of drywall, a crowbar, several instances of mostly unidentifiable alien organic matter, a few fluid ounces of Mountain Dew, a human eyeball—none of it made any sense.

“It’s just—I can’t even get anything to properly present.” Tommy sighed, burying his face in his hands at Dr. Coomer’s dining table. “The sweet voice is all I have, and even _that_ —I just—I’m not a linguist! I don’t know anything about business and money management for a—for science projects, either. I try to focus on what I _do_ know, and—nothing I know about makes sense. So I try to focus on something that makes more sense, but for all that, I’m not qualified!”

“That’s probably the point, Tommy.” Bubby pointed out, crossing his arms. “If Dr. Breen _wanted_ you to succeed, he would have assigned people who are qualified to make these types of reports to help you. Knowing that man like I do, he knows you’re out of your depth, and wants you to fail so he doesn’t have to do anything.”

Tommy let out a long, agonized groan.

“Now, there’s no reason to be discouraged, Tommy!” Dr. Coomer said as he set down a pot of spaghetti on the table. “You’ve proven yourself to be a very quick learner! All you need is to know who to ask for help.”

“I guess as the only competent member of the anomalous materials team, I _could_ help.” Bubby sighed as Dr. Coomer served them their pasta.

“Really? Thank you, Dr. Bubby!” Tommy said with an eager smile. “You wouldn’t...happen to know, um, about how much it would take to send the Nihilanth back, would you?”

“Well, that depends.” Bubby said, leaning back in his chair as he began twirling his share of spaghetti around on his fork. “Do you have _any_ sort of estimate how big it is? Height, width, weight?”

Tommy sighed in defeat. “No.”

“I can’t very well send something _incorporeal_ back to an alien planet.” Bubby huffed, taking a large bite of his food.

“There must be _something_ you can do to get a good idea of how big it is.” Dr. Coomer said, putting a hand to his chin. “At the very least, we know it’s smaller than the dimensions of the container it’s in. That’s a start.”

Tommy rested his chin in his hand, the cogs in his head chugging away. “I wonder...if we could transfer it to a smaller enclosure, just to see how it fits?”

“How the hell did you even get that thing in that enclosure in the first place?” Bubby questioned.

Tommy and Dr. Coomer both shrugged.

“There’s probably no need for _moving_ it like that, anyway. You can’t rely on your eyes to _look_ at how big it is, sure, but you have those mechanical arms that can touch it, right?” Bubby asked. “Use them to feel around it. Take measurements from that.”

“It’s not that easy.” Tommy said sadly. “It’s...it’s hard to describe, um, what it’s like when you take a sample. It’s...the arm moves in, and...it doesn’t actually, uhhh, come into contact with anything, until it just—it just pulls something out.”

Bubby stared at his plate for a long, contemplative moment before suddenly slamming his fist down on the table and shooting out of his chair. “Tommy, take me to the Nihilanth. Right fucking now, I wanna see it!” He exclaimed.

Tommy’s voice caught in his throat, looking between Dr. Coomer and Bubby with wide, surprised eyes.

“Can’t this wait until after we’ve eaten dinner?” Dr. Coomer asked.

“If I don’t get to go see the Nihilanth and prove my theory correct right this second, I’m gonna keel over and die.” Bubby snapped. “Come on, Tommy, let’s go.”

Tommy finally nodded and stood, and the three of them headed down to the Lambda lab, Bubby pacing impatiently the whole tram ride there. Tommy led them into the labs with no trouble, finally arriving in the chamber to face the creature Tommy had spent years at this point observing. Bubby stared at it for a long moment in awe, turning to Tommy with a furrowed brow.

“ _This_ is what you’ve been studying this whole time?” He asked.

“Yeah, what...what do you think is going on?”

Bubby shook his head, circling around to the computer console, where one of Tommy’s very confused looking coworkers watched them curiously.

“Would you move? I gotta try something.” Bubby said harshly to the other scientist. He complied, moving wordlessly out of the way for Bubby to power up the mechanical arms.

A clunky black arm slowly descended from the ceiling, reaching out to the Nihilanth at Bubby’s command. Bubby squinted, struggling to find a good spot to reach in.

“Fuck, how do you know when you’re going to make contact? I can barely figure out what I’m looking at here.” Bubby murmured.

“What are you trying to do?” Tommy asked curiously.

“Hold on.” Bubby huffed, moving an arm towards what might generously be referred to as its center before closing the claw. Tommy watched as it retreated back upward towards the ceiling, slowly revealing what it had grabbed. Tommy tilted his head as he tried to get a good look at it; from this distance, it almost looked like a DVD case. Bubby drew the sample in, and they hurried over to the dispenser on the other side of the room to collect it.

Tommy stared at it as he pulled on a pair of gloves, slowly opening the dispenser door to pull it out. It was a case for a Playstation game he’d never seen or heard of before in his life—Croc: Legend of the Gobbos.

“Open it.” Bubby demanded hurriedly.

Tommy fumbled to pop open the case. Inside was the game disk as Tommy expected, but in the place of the little pamphlet usually found on the other side of the case, they found a piece of printer paper folded over and tucked inside neatly. It had a child’s handwriting on it in red crayon, reading: “ _This game belongs to Connor + Tabbi_ ”.

“I fucking knew it!” Bubby shouted enthusiastically. “It’s not a creature! It’s not _creating_ things like you two kept saying, it’s _taking_ them. It’s a portal!”

“What?!” Tommy exclaimed. “No, it’s—I _talked_ to it!”

Bubby swiped the game case from Tommy with his bare, ungloved hand. “Why would an alien creature have this inside its body, Tommy? We can’t see its dimensions, we can’t get its weight, we can’t _touch_ it because it doesn’t have a physical form. It’s not _alive_ , it’s just...some kind of gateway.”

“No, see? Watch, it talks back!” Tommy insisted, turning to the glass and knocking on it a couple times to get the Nihilanth’s attention. He cleared his throat, then sang a few orbs at it, green to red. The Nihilanth responded with the same gradient. “See? That’s how we greet each other!”

“Tommy, this could be some incredibly advanced alien technology for all we know. Maybe that’s a _language,_ sure, but it could be an automated response.” Bubby said, staring at the orbs as they floated up towards the ceiling to be collected.

“Calling it technology seems like you’re jumping to conclusions, my dear Bubby.” Dr. Coomer pointed out. Bubby huffed, covering a part of his face with his hand. “If I had to guess what it was, I would say it must be some kind of unforeseen consequence of our already unstable teleportation technology. Do you happen to know what they were attempting to teleport when we received the Nihilanth, Tommy?”

“Ummm—I can’t remember, one sec.” Tommy muttered, leading them to the cabinet of their records on the Nihilanth. After shuffling through for a moment, Tommy pulled out the initial report on the Nihilanth, glancing over it carefully. “It looks like...they were trying to collect...something _big._ At the request of an ‘anonymous contact’.”

“What? Let me see.” Bubby said, taking the paper from Tommy and reading over it himself. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck were they _doing?_ ”

Dr. Coomer leaned over Bubby’s shoulder to look at it as well. “ _The...Nihilanth project._ Hmmm.”

“ _We have determined that our attempt to collect a living specimen of what [REDACTED] calls ‘the Nihilanth’, at his request, was a disastrous failure._ ” Bubby read from the page. “ _What we collected is impossible to observe visually and doesn’t seem to have a consistent physical form, based on the samples we have attempted to take from it. At [REDACTED]’s request, we have agreed to run only minimal tests and keep it in containment indefinitely until further instruction._ ”

“What is the Nihilanth meant to be, then?” Dr. Coomer puzzled.

“I think I know about this ‘anonymous contact’.” Bubby said thoughtfully, still staring down at the report. “The supervisors in anomalous materials talk to him pretty often. He’s responsible for most of the good samples we end up getting, but God only knows how he manages it.”

“Hold on!” Tommy said, turning back to the Nihilanth—if it even _was_ the “Nihilanth”, whatever that was. “Whatever is going on here, I still confirmed it’s intelligent! It speaks back to me! It’s still trapped here, in a sense, I—this isn’t—we still have to do something!”

“We’re not saying we’re abandoning your work, Tommy.” Dr. Coomer comforted gently. “We’re just saying it might not necessarily be what you thought it was.”

“ _No._ ” Tommy said, staring into the chamber. “It doesn’t make sense. If it’s only teleporting things, then where did Sunkist—where did I get the sample for Sunkist from?”

Dr. Coomer and Bubby could only shrug.

“See? It doesn’t make sense!” Tommy insisted, nudging past them to a shelf filled with samples, where they’d been keeping the skin sample ever since Tommy brought it back. “There would have had to be an immortal dog already, uhh—already existing, right?”

“I mean, does it make any more sense the way _you’re_ thinking of it?” Bubby questioned, following Tommy to the sample shelf.

Tommy picked up the container he was looking for, holding it out to Bubby. “I don’t know! But—but—it doesn’t...it just...it’s—”

Tommy stopped when something... _happened_ inside the container. Tommy could barely comprehend what he even saw, giving him the exact same feeling he got when he looked too closely at the Nihilanth. Blinking several times, Tommy looked back inside the container, eyes widening when he could finally process what he was looking at.

“Wh...huh...” He murmured.

“Holy shit.” Bubby breathed.

In the center of the sample, where it had previously been relatively unharmed skin just as always, was a perfect square sliced out of it, as though someone had gone in with a scalpel to take a portion of the sample for themself.

“This is unbelievable!” Dr. Coomer exclaimed. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“I—we don’t know for sure.” Bubby said uncertainly, looking at Tommy. “Does that look about the size of the original sample you received?”

“Uhhhh...” Tommy scratched his head. “Probably? It was—that was years ago at this point, I don’t remember.”

“It doesn’t just _teleport_ things, it can transport them in time!” Dr. Coomer said excitedly, grabbing Tommy by the shoulders. “The skin sample _was_ Sunkist all along!”

Tommy slammed the sample down on the shelf, pulling away from Dr. Coomer. “This is too much!” He shouted, pressing the heels of his hands to his temples. “Everything I—everything I thought I knew about it—none of it makes sense, anymore!”

“Tommy, it’s fine.” Bubby said in probably what he hoped was a comforting tone. “You were—”

As Tommy grew more overwhelmed, he felt that _click_ in his head, and Bubby and Dr. Coomer stopped talking. Tommy let out a sigh of relief at the silence, turning and looking back at the Nihilanth. So much time had passed, and Tommy was rapidly falling right back to square one, with no idea what he was looking at, anymore. As his heart rate slowed, Tommy moved to the computer console, typing in a command and scanning his eyes on the scanner behind him for confirmation.

“Tommy, how did you—” Dr. Coomer started from the other side of the room, but was interrupted by that same alarm Tommy had heard that day when he took Sunkist’s sample.

“My God, what are you doing?!” Tommy’s coworker, silent up to this point demanded.

Tommy hurried to the door in the glass at the back of the room, normally sealed tightly, but now hissing as it unlocked. Before anyone could stop him, Tommy pulled the door open and shut it tightly behind him, automatically locking back into place. Bubby and Dr. Coomer were there at the door in an instant, banging on it and shouting, their voices too muffled now for Tommy to understand.

“It’s—it’s gonna be okay!” Tommy shouted back at them, though his voice shook as he spoke. Slowly, heart racing, Tommy turned towards the Nihilanth.

Inside the chamber itself was hot. _Very_ hot, and incredibly humid. Tommy tugged at his collar and swallowed hard, head pounding as he tried to look at the Nihilanth properly. Now that Tommy was inside the chamber, he could hear a constant string of noises. Car horns, random, disjointed speech in languages Tommy didn’t know, keys jingling, waves crashing—it went on and on, always changing, never repeating the same sound twice. Tommy took a deep breath and sang a few green and red orbs at the Nihilanth to greet it.

What Tommy received in response was ear-splittingly loud, bouncing off the walls of the enclosure as the Nihilanth sang back. Tommy cried out in pain, pressing his hands to his ears to try and block it out until it stopped. Breathing hard, Tommy leaned back against the glass as his ears rang. He could feel the vibrations of Bubby and Dr. Coomer pounding on the glass behind him, so he turned, pressing a hand to the glass as comfortingly as he could manage.

“It’s okay!” Tommy insisted, making an “okay” sign with his hand for good measure.

Tommy steeled himself and faced the Nihilanth again, taking a tentative step closer. He couldn’t tell at all how close he was getting, but he reached a hand out, bracing himself to make contact with it. Tommy jumped when he heard the alarm again and the door hissing behind him. Dr. Coomer threw the door open, his arms extending out towards Tommy. Tommy nimbly dodged Dr. Coomer’s arms, which stopped just short of the center of the chamber before drawing back in automatically.

“Stop it! It’s okay!” Tommy shouted.

“Tommy, get the fuck back here _right now!_ ” Bubby barked. “Don’t make Coomer go in after you!”

“No! I’m gonna prove it’s alive!” Tommy argued.

“Tommy, come back where it’s safe, please! You don’t know what’s going to happen!” Dr. Coomer begged as his extendo-arms snapped back into place.

“How does this even prove anything?!” Bubby demanded. “You’re being _very_ stupid right now, Tommy!”

“It’s fine!” Tommy said, rushing the door and slamming it shut again before Dr. Coomer could try to grab him.

He didn’t have much time before they would get the door open again. Without thinking, Tommy sprinted towards the center of the chamber, the incomprehensible shapes of the Nihilanth sparking and shifting almost violently as he got closer. He barreled face-first directly into it before he could even process that he should stop.

Tommy, holding his breath, stared out in front of him as his brain struggled to keep up with what he was seeing. He was in a hotel room. Then he was outside in a wheat field. Then he was in _space_ , a little round robot with an orange eye right in front of him loudly declaring that it was indeed space, then he was in a busy street market, then a church, then a Gamestop, then plunged into the ocean—Tommy breathed hard when he could, trying to take a step forward, stopping as his foot suddenly hovered over a cliff’s edge.

“D-Dr. Coomer?” Tommy called out, voice wavering. “Dr. Bubby?”

Tommy blinked several times, his eyes struggling to adjust when he found himself in a totally black void. He stared in front of him, focusing on the only thing he could see in front of him—a human skeleton. Its empty eye sockets stared back at him, skin sprouting from its fingertips and slowly traveling up over its body. Clothes appeared as skin enveloped dry bones, until what appeared to be a Black Mesa security guard stood in front of him with a blank expression. He knew this man, Tommy thought to himself—but before he could fully process who he was, he was teleported again. And again, and again, with seemingly no end. Tommy buried his face in his hands, then curled his fingers into fists against his face, gritting his teeth. He wanted to go home, he thought, and he felt that deep yearning for home with every fiber of his being.

Tommy felt something strange. Opening his eyes, as he teleported endlessly, he could see something new in front of him, remaining constant across every place he teleported to. A large, bright rectangle the size of a doorway, slicing sharp lines of light into his vision. Tommy hardly even thought about it. He stepped right through, closing his eyes against the light.

When he opened his eyes again, Tommy was stood outside the Nihilanth’s chamber, right between Dr. Coomer and Bubby, who stared at him in shock for a long moment. Tommy was sopping wet with ocean water, but as far as he could tell, he was there in one piece.

“ _Tommy!_ ” Dr. Coomer exclaimed, tears in his eyes as he threw his arms around him and scooped him up into the tightest hug Tommy had received in his life. “My god, I thought you were gone!”

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Bubby demanded, his voice shaking as he spoke. “Don’t ever pull something like that again!”

Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to speak. Dr. Coomer released Tommy, directing him to sit down so he could check he was alright. Nothing was missing, no bones were broken—as far as they could tell, Tommy had made it out unscathed.

“What the _fuck_ did you do?” Dr. Breen’s voice echoed into the lab.

Tommy turned, looking exhaustedly at Dr. Breen as he approached. “I got a call that someone opened the Nihilanth’s chamber without authorization and locked himself inside—I just _knew_ it was going to be you.”

Tommy didn’t even bother attempting to speak. He just plugged his ears, trying to drown out Dr. Breen’s angry shouting as best as he could.

“Dr. Breen, would you please back off for a moment?” Dr. Coomer asked, not too politely. “Tommy appears to be very overwhelmed.”

Tommy shivered, pulling his lab coat tighter around him. Dr. Coomer removed his own in an instant, draping it over Tommy’s shoulders.

“Why is he _wet?_ What happened in there?” Dr. Breen continued, ignoring Dr. Coomer.

After some bickering, Tommy was eventually taken to a hospital closest to Black Mesa to get a full checkup, Dr. Coomer volunteering eagerly to be the one to take him. All Tommy wanted was to curl up at home with Sunkist, but if nothing else, at least Dr. Coomer was nice enough to be quiet for him while he slowly calmed down from his experience. The hospital wasn’t much better for his nerves, but Dr. Coomer served as Tommy’s voice the whole process. Dr. Breen had specifically requested pretty much every test possible be run on him, making for a very long, very miserable night spent in the ER. They were supposed to receive news of at least some of the tests before they left the hospital, but before Tommy heard anything about his condition, he was hastily handed discharge paperwork.

“Did his results look normal?” Dr. Coomer asked the nurse as Tommy glanced over the paperwork.

“His employer asked that the results were sent directly to him so he could go over it with Mr. Coolatta.” The nurse replied.

“What? That doesn’t sound right.” Dr. Coomer argued, staring at the nurse curiously. “I realize the tests were requested by Black Mesa, but that doesn’t mean you _withhold the result_ from the patient. That doesn’t sound legal.”

“Uhhhh...let me get the doctor for you.” The nurse replied, leaving the room.

When the doctor arrived, she closed the door behind her for their privacy, pulling up the little rolling stool to sit in.

“So, I heard you wanted to get those test results.” The doctor said casually, picking up a clipboard from the counter to look over. “Tommy Coolatta, right?”

Tommy nodded.

“That’s an interesting name. Like the coolattas at Dunkin’ Donuts.”

Tommy nodded again.

“Now, Mr. Coolatta, I understand you and your father must be eager to see your condition...”

Tommy couldn’t say anything, and Dr. Coomer didn’t seem interested in interrupting, but they did exchange a quick, amused look.

“...but with Black Mesa work-related injuries, my hands are sorta tied.” The doctor finished with a sympathetic look. “They _are_ required to give you all the same information as we would, of course, so nothing’s being withheld. It’s just a confidentiality thing. _I_ don’t even get to know the full results—everything gets put together into separate reports to be sent directly back to your employer. I just get recommendations from each department whether or not it would be wise to release you.”

“That’s a horrible policy.” Dr. Coomer commented bitterly.

“All of your tests were expedited, and I got the okay from everyone to send you home, so everything should be alright.” The doctor reassured them. “If you have any concerns about your results after going over them with your employer, you’re always welcome to call us back and ask about it.”

Dr. Coomer looked to Tommy with a frown. Tommy sighed, dragging his palms down his face. He felt fine, physically—at this point, literally all he wanted was to go home. He just nodded and gave them a thumbs up. Once the doctor was out of the room, Tommy carefully looked over all the forms and signed them, and the two of them were finally headed out the hospital doors. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, casting two Black Mesa security guards who approached them in a menacing shadow.

“We’ll transport Tommy Coolatta back to the Black Mesa facility.” One of them said.

Dr. Coomer placed both hands on Tommy’s shoulders protectively. “No, it’s no trouble. I’ll be taking him back myself.”

The two guards exchanged a concerned look, but Dr. Coomer paid them no mind, directing Tommy back to his car. Once they were in the car safely, Dr. Coomer exited the parking lot hastily, eyeing the rearview mirror suspiciously as an armored truck pulled up behind them.

“What does Dr. Breen think he’s doing?” Dr. Coomer muttered.

Tommy stared nervously into rearview mirror as well, stopping and looking at Dr. Coomer when he felt his large hand squeezing his shoulder. Still looking at the road, Dr. Coomer put on a comforting smile.

“We’ll get it figured out. Whatever Dr. Breen wants, I’ve been causing him trouble ever since I started at Black Mesa. I know how to handle him.” He said reassuringly.

Tommy smiled back, letting out a sigh as he leaned his head back into the seat and closed his eyes. The rest of the drive back went smoothly, at least, but as Dr. Coomer and Tommy stepped out of the car, the guards were close behind, looking at Tommy expectantly.

“We were asked to take you to Dr. Breen’s office.” One of them said.

“...To go over the test results?” Dr. Coomer asked suspiciously.

Tommy put a hand on Dr. Coomer’s shoulder to signify it was alright before he took a step forward. It was intimidating to be escorted there by security guards, but the way he figured, saying no would only be delaying the inevitable. Dr. Coomer stayed close as they all headed to Dr. Breen’s office, where they found him sat at his desk, looking almost as exhausted as Tommy felt. Dr. Breen nodded at them, indicating for the guards to leave.

“Dr. Coomer, I’d rather this conversation be between myself and Mr. Coolatta, if you don’t mind.” Dr. Breen added.

Dr. Coomer looked ready to fight it, but Tommy took a deep breath, finally finding it in himself to speak.

“It’s okay.” He said gently.

Dr. Coomer nodded hesitantly, closing the door behind him.

“I trust you’re feeling better?” Dr. Breen asked, nodding for Tommy to sit.

Tommy plopped down exhaustedly in the chair, choosing not to respond to that.

“I got your results back from the hospital, as well as the required forms.” Dr. Breen said, flipping through a packet on his desk. “Are you aware of any medical conditions, Mr. Coolatta?”

Tommy frowned deeply. “I—I just wanna hear if I’m going to die or not, Dr. Breen.”

“Yes, you’re lucky to be alive, aren’t you?” Dr. Breen questioned, setting down the packet. “You know, you’re not the first one to pull a stunt like this.”

Tommy looked at Dr. Breen curiously.

“It’s possible you remember, actually. You might not have known what was going on, due to only being an assistant at the time, but a security guard managed to get the door unlocked so he could run into the chamber.” Dr. Breen explained, lacing his fingers together.

“...Why’d he do that?” Tommy asked.

“I thought you’d know, since you two seem to have so much in common.” Dr. Breen scoffed.

Tommy crossed his arms uncomfortably.

“The only difference is, _he_ never made it back. You, on the other hand, returned in a manner of—what, ten minutes?” Dr. Breen continued. “I’m certain your _abilities_ must have made it possible for you to come back.”

Tommy stared at Dr. Breen for a long moment, waiting for him to elaborate—but Dr. Breen was looking back at Tommy expectantly, waiting for a response himself.

“...Huh?” Tommy finally asked.

Dr. Breen paused. “...Your abilities. You know.”

“My _what?_ ”

Dr. Breen sighed in frustration. “Don’t tell me you’re going to play coy over this. You’ve threatened me twice with it, and you expect me not to ask any questions?”

Tommy pressed his lips into a thin line, shrugging at Dr. Breen. Dr. Breen pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You and him are so much more alike than I thought.” He muttered to himself.

“Hm?”

“Honestly, how can you try to deny it when I have your medical chart right in front of me?” Dr. Breen demanded, indicating at the packet.

“What are you talking about?” Tommy asked.

“You _aren’t human._ ” Dr. Breen finally declared, leaning into his desk as though he’d been waiting to say this for a long, long time. “You’ve used your strange time power on me before, and you clearly must have used your extraterrestrial power to break free of whatever the Nihilanth did to you! It’s _inhuman!_ ”

Tommy honestly didn’t know what to say to that. He stared at Dr. Breen for a long moment, but Dr. Breen seemed intent on waiting for something from Tommy. Tommy stood up, tentatively taking the packet off of Dr. Breen’s desk. Dr. Breen made no move to stop him.

“If I’m not gonna die, I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” Tommy finally announced.

Tommy heard no objection from Dr. Breen when he turned around and left the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tommy learns his valuable lessons about safety protocols


	4. REPORT: Regarding T.Coolatta and his involvement with the Nihilanth Project (pt.4)

Dr. Coomer and Bubby were highly concerned for Tommy’s wellbeing, in their own ways—Dr. Coomer was nearly suffocating while Bubby just made snide comments about any perceived ill-advised choices Tommy made, but Tommy couldn’t quite find it in himself to complain. The two of them sat in Tommy’s apartment that next evening, having brought in some food for him, and finally, Tommy felt prepared to talk about what had happened. He described to them the way he’d been teleported around for a long time, then mentioned the security guard he’d seen in a void before he finally managed to get back home.

“Oh yes, I remember!” Dr. Coomer nodded. “Well, my clone remembers, but you know. I think the guard thought he saw something inside the chamber. He threatened a scientist into opening it, and he ran inside and just...disappeared. We...we never saw him again.”

Tommy frowned uneasily, furrowing his brow as some pieces began to slide together in his head. When he came to a sickening realization, he turned to Dr. Coomer. “That...that guard. It wasn’t Ben, was it?”

Dr. Coomer nodded slowly. Tommy buried his face in his hands as Dr. Coomer squeezed Tommy’s shoulder comfortingly. Tommy hadn’t known him very well at all, only having spoken to him a little bit over the span of a few weeks before his disappearance, but the memory of him standing there in that void hit him hard.

“You’d think they would make it harder to open the goddamn chamber after an event like that.” Bubby pointed out. “Anyway, this just proves my theory—it’s a...portal, perhaps. Or a hole in reality, more like.”

“Bubby, you could afford to be a little more sensitive!” Dr. Coomer scolded, elbowing Bubby not too gently.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, putting a hand to his chin. “I don’t know. Well, yeah, I think you’re—you must be right about the portal thing. But...that just means there’s something alive _inside_ of it. Right?”

“Well, if it’s a portal that constantly alternates between settings like that, surely there’s plenty of alive things inside of it at any given point.” Dr. Coomer said thoughtfully.

“I don’t think that makes sense. About the things either of you just said.” Bubby huffed. “There has to be a reason it responds to your sweet voice, sure, I’m not gonna deny that. But I think you’re looking at this all wrong, Tommy.”

“I understand it must be hard to have to reframe the way you’ve been thinking about it for so long.” Dr. Coomer said sympathetically, placing a hand on Tommy’s forearm. “And...I’m not aware of how close you and Ben must have been, but regardless, I’m sorry it took so long for you to find out this way.”

“There’s _something_ I’m not getting.” Tommy murmured, already deep in thought. “I feel like—I feel like I’m so close to understanding, now, but...either way...if nothing else, maybe we can get Ben out.”

Bubby grimaced. “...You said he was a skeleton though, right?”

“Well—he...he grew skin.” Tommy defended hesitantly.

“That’s not any better, Tommy. You realize why that’s terrifying, right?”

“Perhaps you should take a vacation first, Tommy.” Dr. Coomer suggested gently. “You’ve been working tirelessly the past few years and rarely taken any real time off. It could be beneficial to come back with a clearer head, particularly after what you just experienced.”

“Dr. Coomer, I understand what you’re saying, but this is important!” Tommy argued. “And plus, I...I don’t handle vacations well. I get bored.”

With all this in mind, Tommy had a new purpose—at least temporarily. Miraculously, Dr. Breen hadn’t revoked permissions for Tommy’s project, but the security procedures for entrance into the Nihilanth’s chamber _were_ made more intensive, now requiring two employees to unlock the door by scanning their eyes simultaneously; all guards and scientists assigned to the Lambda team were given clearance, except for Tommy. Not that he was surprised that would be the case, Tommy thought in disappointment.

What he started on next, though, was trying to find a pattern in its teleportation, and if he could possibly control it. With some struggle, the team ended up attaching a sturdy camera to one of the mechanical arms and sending it into the Nihilanth. Tommy had prepared himself for the idea that the camera might get severed from the arm and lost in any random place in the universe, but to his extreme fortune, teleportation didn’t seem to damage the arm. Their luck quickly ran out, though—the cameras were prone to getting broken in more and more comical ways. First, it was destroyed after half a second spent in the ocean. Then, another one was smashed by a falling rock. The next one was fried by lightning, the next got shot by a startled hunter, the next was stolen by a baby (the last thing they saw on that one was the camera being put into their mouth)—just when Tommy was absolutely certain they had the strongest, sturdiest, most indestructible camera on the entire planet, it was submerged in lava, melting it almost instantly. Tommy had to leave the lab for the rest of the day after that incident, burying his face in Sunkist’s side in his dorm for three consecutive hours.

They had to settle for the unfortunate inevitability of losing cameras. They returned to square one, purchasing a truckload of cheap, acceptable, easily replaced cameras, constantly repairing mechanical arms to reattach a new camera to once they lost another in any manner of shocking ways. As Tommy should have predicted from his personal experience, the teleportation pattern was unpredictable—and there only came a few times in the next several weeks that he saw what might have been the correct black void he’d seen Ben in, but no sign of Ben himself. Not to mention, apparently it wasn’t just a manipulation of space, but time as well; who knew if they happened to reach the void he’d seen Ben in, he would catch him at the right time?

Next, Tommy recognized an issue with their observation of its teleportation. They could see visually where the camera would end up, but more often than not, they would have no idea where exactly it had ended up. So, they needed a way to track the cameras. Lucky for Tommy, Dr. Coomer knew someone within Black Mesa who could help—they recommended a different model of camera where they were able to add tracking to the interface, and just like that, coordinates were displayed on the live feed along with video. The only downside was, there wasn’t any way to tell reliably _when_ each location took place. Tommy had to set that problem aside for the time being, and began to map out the teleportation digitally over the next few months.

With this information, Tommy wasn’t sure what to make of the times a camera appeared in what _might_ have been the black void he was looking for. Maybe it was just too dark for the camera to see, maybe the feed cut out—there were too many possibilities for him to know for sure. However, there did come one half of a second when a camera’s coordinates were glitched out and unreadable. Tommy marked that down off his map specially. Whatever it was, it was the closest lead he had yet.

In the time Tommy spent with this tedious project, a camera was never transported to the exact same spot twice. However, after four months, it _looped_ , just beginning again exactly 3 feet, 2.874 inches to the left. With this, Tommy was able to project approximately when it might appear in that black void again. In two months and 15 days, the Nihilanth would provide a path to the void again, and Tommy was going to be prepared.

Except he had no idea how to prepare. And he had no idea if Ben was still in the void at all.

The smart thing to do would be to prepare a little rover to send into the Nihilanth to confirm Ben was there, then work on a plan to get Ben out in four months. Though, there was the issue of how Tommy wasn’t sure if _any_ object would continue teleporting like that, or if it was possible to make it stay in one spot remotely—and Ben had already been in there for _years,_ at least from their perspective. So as the deadline loomed over them, Tommy decided to be a little stupid again.

This time, he got permission to be stupid safely. Tommy was given an HEV suit, which would protect him from any hazards he may encounter and enable Black Mesa to track him if he got lost. He hadn’t intended to tell Dr. Coomer or Bubby at first, he knew they would just worry, but the Coomer clone hivemind thing made that plan fall through fast—so, of course, Dr. Coomer and Bubby showed up the day Tommy intended to go in.

“I really can’t believe you.” Bubby huffed, crossing his arms tightly. “As if nearly dying or getting trapped in some other skeleton dimension or whatever _once_ wasn’t enough for you.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Bubby.” Tommy said as comfortingly as he could. “This time, I have the HEV suit, it’s uhh—it’s all planned out—the plan’s been safety approved.”

Dr. Coomer pulled Tommy into a tight hug. “Be safe, Tommy. I have full confidence in you.”

Tommy glanced up at the clock on the wall, pulling away from Dr. Coomer and hefting up the HEV helmet in his hands. “I’ll be alright, guys. I’d, uhhhh, I’d better get in there.”

Bubby stopped Tommy as he started to turn towards the chamber door, grabbing onto his forearm. “Just—don’t get stuck. I still want you to transfer to my department, and you can’t do that if you’re in skeleton hell.”

“Really, guys, I think it’ll be fine.” Tommy insisted. “I think—uhhh, I think that the Nihilanth and me, ummm, have some sort of understanding. If that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t! Don’t rely on some unforgiving portal, you can only rely on yourself.” Bubby snapped.

“Okay. I’ll see you guys in a few minutes.”

Tommy put on the HEV helmet and locked it into place. Dr. Coomer pulled Tommy into one last hug, Bubby patting Tommy’s shoulder before Tommy pulled away again to stand at the chamber door. As the alarm blared, the door unlocked, and Tommy stepped into the chamber again.

“ _One minute remaining._ ” The HEV suit announced to Tommy.

God, Tommy couldn’t believe he was doing this again. Already beginning to sweat in the HEV suit, Tommy stepped a little closer. The plan was to step in three seconds early, giving him six locations before arriving in the void. Then he’d have half a second to find Ben—if he was there at all, due to the unpredictable time element—grab him, and drag him along, hopefully to eventually teleport back home.

This was a really stupid idea.

“ _Thirty seconds remaining._ ”

Tommy stepped in closer. Based on the way the location shifted each rotation, Ben would probably be 6 feet and 5.748 inches away. Tommy had very little chance to grab him in that time, but hey, that was assuming he stayed in the exact same spot all this time. That was very unlikely. Maybe he’d moved closer. Or maybe he’d moved further away.

“ _Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven..._ ”

Tommy stepped in even closer, casting a glance at his friends. Bubby and Dr. Coomer were holding each other’s hands, watching Tommy worriedly. Tommy gave them one last wave before the countdown ended, and Tommy stepped into the Nihilanth.

Tommy saw an old-timey saloon in Utah, the wreckage of the front yard of someone’s house in Bulgaria, a blizzard in Antarctica, a farm in Chile, a boat just east of the middle of the Atlantic ocean, and a lake in India before he saw the void. Tommy searched frantically, feeling a _click_ in his head when his eyes locked on something small in the distance.

He was too far away.

Tommy didn’t get teleported, though. Breathing hard, he looked down at himself and all around him. Everything felt...strange, like the world had stopped for him. Well, he’d take it. Tommy began sprinting towards the figure in the distance, confirming as he approached that it was indeed none other than Ben. He didn’t move or react, even when Tommy grabbed onto his forearm. Tommy couldn’t help but relax a little now that he had him, and once again, they began teleporting. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, pulling in Ben close to his chest to hold onto him as tightly as he could.

“I wanna go home!” Tommy shouted.

Tommy felt strange as he clung to Ben tightly. Something at the core of his stomach was beginning to spark, but Ben’s presence was...wrong, somehow. He had no idea how that made any sense, but this time, Tommy opened his eyes, finding them still teleporting with no magic doorway to speak of.

Tommy closed his eyes again, thinking about home as hard as he could as panic began to rise up in him. It did nothing—the only thought Tommy could cling to was that Ben made it impossible for him to get back home. So what was he supposed to do, then? Leave Ben behind?

In a last-ditch effort, Tommy released Ben with one arm, still clinging to him with the other so he could reach up and unlock his helmet. He tore it off and tried the sweet voice, hoping against all odds, it would read as a plea for help to the Nihilanth. Tommy stopped, though, when he received a response—not from the Nihilanth, but from Ben. Ben tilted his head up a little, singing blue orbs at Tommy. They floated around them, calming him significantly. Tommy breathed out a sigh, holding onto Ben tighter and thinking with a clearer head.

_I want to go home._

What Tommy felt next made him think for a moment he must have been dying. A spark in his core enveloped him, like he was struck by lightning. Tommy cried out in shock, dragging Ben down as he fell to his knees, but as the sensation began to die down, he heard absolute silence. Panting, Tommy opened his eyes, looking around to find none other than the center of the Nihilanth’s chamber. He finally released Ben and closed his eyes again, dropping the HEV helmet and pressing his hands to his ears as the door to the chamber opened, allowing the sound of the alarm to echo inside. He sat like that for a long few moments before he felt a strong pair of arms scoop him up. Tommy looked up, feeling no surprise at all when he found Dr. Coomer was tossing Tommy over his shoulder so he could pick up Ben as well. Once they were all out of the chamber, they shut the door, and the alarm finally stopped.

Several scientists cheered, to which Tommy couldn’t help but plug his ears again as he was set down gently by Dr. Coomer. Bubby shushed them harshly, allowing Tommy to relax a little at the quiet.

Tommy moved to sit down in chair closest to him, watching as Dr. Coomer shifted Ben in his arms. His stomach dropped when he saw Ben was completely limp. Tommy shot back up, placing a hand over Ben’s mouth to feel his breath. He growled in frustration when he remembered his hand was gloved, so he leaned his head in, ear hovering over his mouth instead. He sighed in relief when he could hear shallow, even breaths.

“We’ll need to get him to a hospital.” Dr. Coomer announced quietly. Then, he turned to Tommy with a proud smile. “You did it! You saved Ben!”

Tommy plopped back down in the chair, tilting his head back to let it rest on the back of the chair.

“Are you alright, Tommy?” Bubby asked.

Tommy gave them a thumbs up.

“I’ll get Ben to the surface right away.” Dr. Coomer announced.

As he bustled away, Bubby helped Tommy remove the HEV suit, and Tommy finally turned back to the Nihilanth’s chamber. Something had been off when he got back, he noted, but he hadn’t been able to fully process it until just now.

The Nihilanth’s enclosure was empty.

Tommy pressed his palms to the glass, turning to Bubby with wide eyes. Bubby nodded, adjusting his glasses on his face.

“When you got back, there was a flash of green light.” Bubby explained. “We couldn’t see what exactly happened, but it was a _massive_ burst of energy. When we could finally see in the chamber again, the Nihilanth was gone, and you two were there instead.”

Tommy frowned, shuffling back to sit down again. Bubby pulled up a chair to sit beside him, propping up his elbow on his knee and pressing his hand to his chin thoughtfully.

“Do you have any idea what could have caused that?” He asked, looking to Tommy curiously.

Tommy paused for a long moment before he began shuffling through empty report forms to begin filling out. Bubby helped him go through the energy readings as well, and Tommy quietly spent the next hour drafting a comprehensive report of what happened. The work did a lot to ease Tommy’s nerves, at least; losing himself in hard numbers and facts rather than concerning himself with future problems always helped him. Once his draft was finished, he handed it all over for Bubby to look at, and they spent a long time in silence as Bubby read it over.

“So...there are a couple variables to consider.” Bubby announced once he was done. “First, you were wearing the HEV suit this time. Second, you were holding onto Ben this time when you came back—and Ben wasn’t capable of coming back until now.”

Tommy leaned into the desk in front of him, resting his chin on his fist as he stared into the Nihilanth’s enclosure in deep thought.

“How did your test results look when you came back from the hospital, Tommy?” Bubby asked.

Tommy shrugged. He’d taken the packet from Dr. Breen, but had forgotten to look over it—he figured if he’d been released from the hospital and felt fine, it was probably okay.

“Well, that’s helpful.” Bubby said sarcastically. “I’m not sure what to make of all this. It’s not like we can run any repeat experiments.”

Tommy looked wordlessly back into the empty chamber.

“...Sorry that the thing you were studying for the past several years just disappeared.” Bubby murmured awkwardly. “I know you were worried it was alive and all.”

Tommy shrugged again. Yeah, it _did_ feel strange that everything he’d been working on was just...gone. But the more he thought about it, the more he felt firmly that Bubby must have been right—what he had been speaking to wasn’t the Nihilanth after all.

It had been Ben.

****

Tommy didn’t get much of an opportunity to confirm anything about Ben. Ben had been declared legally dead years ago, and despite evidence to the contrary, Black Mesa had him in a legal chokehold. He was considered more an “anomaly” that needed to be studied at this point, and that jurisdiction was given to the Lambda lab. Tommy got to see him once, now being cared for in one of the private labs; he was alive, but comatose. Tommy had sang at him with no response—maybe whatever had destroyed the Nihilanth had done this, Tommy thought. He was assured over and over by the Lambda team that they would do everything in their power to help Ben.

Then he was kicked off the Lambda team.

“But why?” Tommy demanded. “I understood—I got further in understanding the Nihilanth than anyone else on the team! I’m probably way more—way more qualified to help Ben than anyone else here!”

“You _destroyed_ the Nihilanth, Tommy.” The Coomer clone, a much ruder man than the original Dr. Coomer, huffed. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, but we at the Lambda team think your talents may be more appreciated elsewhere, now that the Nihilanth is gone.”

Tommy let out an annoyed sigh, turning back towards the door Ben was behind.

“You would make a very good supervisor somewhere else.” The Coomer clone went on. “As it was here, though, you sort of steamrolled everyone’s research just to focus on the Nihilanth.”

Tommy frowned, crossing his arms uncomfortably.

“Perhaps you should transfer to anomalous materials.” The Coomer clone suggested. “Your experience with teleportation could be incredibly useful to that department.”

It wasn’t a fight that Tommy could win this time—plus, he wasn’t qualified at all to help care for someone in a coma. He put in a request to transfer to anomalous materials, followed quickly by Dr. Coomer. It was a good change, Tommy finally managed to think after a couple years of guilt. It had been agonizing for a while, feeling like he had been so close to understanding it all and saving Ben for real, only to have all his work disappear before his eyes and Ben to be left in a coma indefinitely. There was no big reward for his work, a time when he could finally feel satisfied in feeling he did all he could; but he’d gotten further and done more with his time than anyone else on the Lambda team seemed intent to, at least, and it was all downhill from there. Someday, Tommy hoped, Ben would wake up, and the Nihilanth project would finally feel completed.

Working with Dr. Coomer and Bubby was nice, too. They made a pretty good team, Tommy thought; Bubby and Tommy shared a tendency to overwork themselves, but Dr. Coomer was always good at counteracting that. The department was quickly expanding as well—apparently, Dr. Breen was more eager than ever now to squeeze good results out of them, and that left them with harsh deadlines and high expectations. Tommy didn’t mind it too much; he liked work that kept him busy. Up towards the end, him, Dr. Coomer, and Bubby were practically always in the lab, struggling to get results in a rather tight deadline until they received an incredibly promising, albeit possibly dangerous sample.

Tommy remembered going to bed that night before the big test, feeling strangely like they were on the brink of something world-changing. After everything, Tommy wasn’t sure if this was another one of his delusions brought on by stress, or if they really were close to something that big. There was no way to tell until the test, though, so he rolled over in bed, settling in to get some good rest and hoping for the best out of tomorrow.

Tommy knew something was off the moment he opened his eyes, though. He was in the break room with a couple other scientists, but something was...off. They repeated the same motions, the same lines, and they looked so _strange._ Their angles were sharper, their details were blurrier, the colors were harsher on his eyes, they—

Oh.

He was in a video game.

Tommy stood there in the doorway of the break room. He was waiting for someone. The name came to him immediately, hitting him like a train. _Gordon Freeman._ Of course he knew Mr. Freeman. Mr. Freeman didn’t know him—not even on a couple different levels—but Tommy knew him without a shadow of a doubt. The knowledge of Gordon Freeman was so deeply ingrained into his existence, he could practically feel him walking down the hall. Tommy let him pass at first before finally stepping out to catch his attention and introduce himself. Whatever this strange, sick twist of fate was, he did _not_ want to get left behind.

Mr. Freeman hurried off to the test chamber after their first conversation, which was fine. Tommy knew they had time, and he’d clearly already made an impression—not an impression Tommy _liked_ , but it was an impression nonetheless—so, for some reason, he was fairly certain that meant he could easily catch up with him when he was needed. Like he’d just solidified himself as a necessary NPC through an action he was never supposed to be allowed to take. Weird.

Distantly, Tommy wondered as he headed towards the room overseeing the test chamber if this was just another delusion. It wouldn’t have been out of line for him—he’d had times before where he was certain the world around him wasn’t real. This was different, though. He couldn’t explain it, it just _was._ Besides, it wasn’t like he was doing anything weird about it, all things considered. He was just trying to make a new friend, continuing with work. That was all completely normal.

If he needed proof, though, he could easily find it in Dr. Coomer and Bubby. They acted differently—still at the core of what made them _them_ , Bubby acting snippy, grouchy, and overall like he was above everyone else while Dr. Coomer was chipper, teasing, and helpful, but...well. They were NPCs now. They all were except Mr. Freeman, and as Tommy and Bubby shared what Tommy thought might be a meaningful look while Mr. Freeman headed into the test chamber with Benry, he began to wonder what that meant for them.

...Huh. Benry.

Tommy couldn’t quite remember much in his current state—but he got the feeling it was significant to see Ben...ry...up and about. They were...friends? He thought. As he strained to remember, Mr. Freeman began with the scheduled test, ripping his attention back to work so intensely, it might have hurt his head, if he had a physical body.

Well...if his time spent in delusions about reality taught him anything, it was that he should really do his best to take total acceptance of their reality as a freeing experience. So, he wasn’t real. What did that actually _mean?_ He could still think, see, hear, and feel. He could still talk to his friends. He could still provide something meaningful to Mr. Freeman, who was infuriatingly patronizing—like, Jesus, he was _older_ than Mr. Freeman, who did he think he was, acting like he was a child?—but hey, maybe he’d get it down eventually, right?

Right. It was fine. Tommy was lucky to have this self-awareness at all, surely; he could take in the world as it was, and that was something to be grateful for. He was going to use it for good. He was going to help Gordon Freeman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thus ends the tommy&benry backstory segment.....see u all sunday for some new stuff!


	5. REPORT: Regarding D.Pepper's experiences with reality and employment with Black Mesa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey thank u so much for all the really nice comments!!!!!! i never know how to respond to nice comments directly but i Do read all of them and it makes me really happy to see!!!! i'm glad y'all are enjoying it!!!

“Um.”

Darnold’s voice echoed across the massive stadium, hundreds—no, thousands?—of expectant eyes on him. He tugged at the collar of his nice button-up shirt he’d been careful to iron before putting on, only for it to be covered by his shitty, low-budget, fraying graduation robe. He forced in an anxious breath, looking down at his speech cards. He’d poured so much effort into this speech; it was a high honor, after all, to be valedictorian, and he should have a speech befitting of the role.

It wasn’t like he’d been competing for the spot. Or like he was particularly prideful of his school, or cared about his graduating class or anything like that; he was just too anxious to let anything go. Any opportunity to slack off in favor of doing something more fun with friends, he had to pass up, because the _very second_ he would step outside his house with his jacket, it was like the world fell apart around him, and he’d have to go right back upstairs and do his stupid homework and study until he fell asleep. Truth be told, he was just excited to be done with high school and move on with his life, throw himself into a new school situation instead for the next 8-12 years. Great.

His speech said otherwise, though. He’d written something one would expect; “I love this school, I love my classmates, I love my teachers, it’ll be so sad to move on,” whatever—that kind of thing. Now that it was time to finally say it out loud in front of real people and be completely done with it, though, his voice was caught in his throat.

Darnold opened his mouth again. Then he closed it, dropped his cards, then walked right off stage. He could hear muffled laughter behind him, but he really couldn’t even be assed to care about that; he was just relieved to be out of the spotlight.

“Darnold, are you alright?” His old chemistry teacher asked him. “You don’t wanna do your speech?”

“Nope.”

The rest of the graduation went okay, at least. You don’t need a whole lot of willpower to walk across the stage and accept a piece of paper; Darnold got his diploma after lengthy speeches and headed on outside. His mom couldn’t make it to the graduation—that was fine, she had work, so they were going to do something to celebrate later. He instead stood awkwardly off to the side of a friend group he normally would hang out with whenever he didn’t happen to be busy. He didn’t know them super well; in fact, he’d been skirting around the fact that he didn’t even remember a single person’s name for the past couple of years, but that was also fine. He’d be moving onto college soon anyway, it wasn’t like he was probably going to be seeing much of these people ever again.

“Darnold!” One of them greeted, once he was finally noticed. “Hey, did you hear our plans?”

“Uhh—no, sorry, I was spacing out.” Darnold replied sheepishly. “What’s going on?”

“We wanted to go on a road trip. There’d be enough space for you, you should come with!” They suggested excitedly, nudging him a little closer to their circle.

“Huh? Road trip? To where?” Darnold asked.

“We wanted to go to Colorado. My grandparents are gonna be gone on a trip for the next couple weeks, and they said we could borrow their house.” They explained. “You wanna come?”

“Uhhh...” Darnold fiddled with his graduation robe uneasily. “I don’t know, I guess I’d have to ask my mom.”

“Come on, you just graduated high school! You don’t have to _ask_ , you can just go. Besides, the house’ll be fully stocked already and everything, and we can take care of gas. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything.” They went on, nudging him playfully. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Darnold made a worried noise. “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright, well, you know where I live. Just meet us outside my place at 5 tomorrow morning if you wanna come.” They said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Darnold nodded, made his excuses, and broke away from the group to head home. He’d never been on a road trip before—his mom was always too busy to take him anywhere. Not that he was too eager to go anywhere too exciting; he was usually too busy himself these days. In fact, he was particularly worried about taking off on a road trip when he should be considering university, maybe getting a summer job, all that sort of thing. Being gone for “a couple weeks” didn’t sound like it was worthwhile when he was on the cusp of a massive life change.

Then again, Darnold thought as he lied awake that night, right after celebrating his graduation with his mom, wasn’t that the perfect time to go? He hadn’t done anything too exciting with his life up to this point. Maybe this would be his last chance to drop his responsibilities and go have fun for once, without fucking things up _too_ badly. Besides, it was two weeks out of an entire summer—what harm could _that_ do?

Darnold made his decision at about 3am. He spent a little while getting ready, making sure his suitcase was properly packed, and wrote a note for his mom to find when she got up. He was certain she was going to be furious with him, but hey, that was a problem for two whole weeks down the line, he forced himself to think as he headed out the door.

After all that time he’d spent writing and rewriting his note, he didn’t have much time left to get to his friend’s house. He ran through his neighborhood and across the street, into his friend’s neighborhood. He recognized the car as it approached to leave, stopping right beside him as he stood on the sidewalk. His friend rolled down their window, smiling at him excitedly.

“Hey, Darnold!” They greeted. “Throw your bag in the back. Let’s go.”

Darnold did as they said, tossing his suitcase into the trunk and climbing in beside another one of his friends. Would now be the time where he finally bit the bullet and asked their names? He wondered.

Nah, he thought as he settled in. It was _way_ too late for that.

Darnold stared out the window, the dark town he grew up in rushing past. He’d never been to Colorado; he wondered how different it was going to be. He pictured a bustling touristy mountain town—the type right by a ski resort—busy and crowded, full of noise and intrusive smells and sights. It was a lot more exciting to imagine than he’d expected—he didn’t actually hate crowds _that_ much if there was a purpose to it, and this would be something new to try out. It’d be fine, he reassured himself.

“Okay guys, we’re coming up on the city border.” His friend announced. Darnold looked out the windshield, and sure enough, a sign was posted up announcing the arrival into the next town over. Darnold sat up, smiling at everyone else in the car hyping it up. “Aaaaand...we’re o—”

Darnold felt it again. His friend’s voice almost seemed to cut out as his brain shifted into a panic. He was never sure how to describe these “episodes” when he’d gone to doctors to talk it over; it was like everything just stopped existing all around him. He knew that couldn’t be the case, though—if he reached out, he could touch things. If he listened close, he could hear things. If he squinted, he could see in front of him; he simply seemed to lose his grip, and it became a conscious effort to experience what came naturally to everyone else.

“Stop the car!” Darnold shouted.

Darnold felt the momentum ease up until he was pretty certain the car had stopped. He squinted, struggling to get a grip on the world around him, but it just wouldn’t ease up; it never did, in his past experiences, until he took several steps back and abandoned what he had been trying to do. He had to backtrack if he wanted it to go away.

“Are you alright?” One of his friends asked gently.

“Umm—I don’t—I might have to go back.” Darnold replied uneasily. His voice shook as he felt the slow progression of a pressure change begin; it was like what he imagined it would feel like if he was scuba diving and began resurfacing too fast. His ears began to ache, and the air around him seemed to loosen until his chest was hurting as well.

“Uhh, okay. Do you want me to just drive you back home?”

Darnold nodded, closing his eyes tightly. “Y-yeah. I’m sorry.”

Darnold relaxed significantly once they turned around, seeming to cross that threshold his brain had decided was safe. The pressure change went away instantly—everything around him just seemed to snap back into place, as if nothing around him had begun to disappear at all. Darnold let out a relieved sigh once he could breathe easily again, leaning his head back on the headrest.

“Are you alright?” His friend asked again.

“Y-...yeah. I’m alright.” Darnold reassured them. “I have, uhh, I have an anxiety disorder, I guess.”

He didn’t say it with much conviction. His doctor hadn’t said it with conviction at the time, either; whatever it was that caused this, “anxiety” was probably just the easiest diagnosis to throw him. It at least made _some_ sense—he could usually trace it back to something he was worried about. Leaving the state for the first time without his mom’s permission would be a big one for sure; other times, it could usually be said he was just worried about homework, or too nervous to try out a new restaurant or something.

On the other hand, he’d never heard anyone else talk about how it felt like reality just began to disappear around them whenever _they_ were nervous.

Darnold gave his friends hasty apologies as he climbed out of the car and collected his suitcase. He stood in the driveway awkwardly as he watched them pull out and drive away, undoubtedly about to have the time of their lives. Just without him. Darnold sighed and headed back inside to unpack his suitcase.

****

It wasn’t too hard to pick the university he ended up going to. He didn’t want to go too far from home, and there was only one university about two hours away from him that _didn’t_ give him that horrible, world-ending feeling when he tried to step inside. His friend who had tried to drive him to Colorado ended up going to the same university, along with pursuing the same degree; meaning he didn’t really have to branch out into the sea of unfamiliar, indistinct faces to make friends. That was a bonus. After graduating, they even ended up working in the same small lab in the area; it wasn’t great—he didn’t have much room for real, interesting _research_ , but hey, it paid his bills, at least. That’s all he could really ask for in a shitty capitalist society, right?

They were in the lab together working late one night, his friend playing some Daryl Hall & John Oates song on loop now that it was just them. Darnold tuned it out, focusing on work until his friend rolled their chair right next to him and tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey, Darnold, I got a secret for you.” They said with a smile. “I got an offer from Black Mesa.”

“Whoa, really?” Darnold asked in awe. “How’d you manage that?”

“I was just sort of sending out applications to random places, not really expecting anything to come out of it.” They replied, waving their hand dismissively. “But they actually responded to my application! I’m taking Monday off so I can drive out there for an interview. They’re pretty much building an entirely new department right now for mixology, so they said if I know anyone I’d like to work with from my current job...”

Darnold stared at them blankly. They nudged him playfully.

“I want you to come with me!” They said. “We’d get our own dorms, really nice benefits, way better pay...”

“Oh! Oh, wow.” Darnold smiled anxiously. “That’s really cool. I mean—that sounds like a really cool opportunity. I don’t know, though, I feel like I’ve already got a good spot here.”

“Come on, this job _sucks._ ” They complained, leaning against the counter. “Don’t you wanna do real research?”

“I do.” Darnold muttered thoughtfully. “I...I’ll think about it. Thank you, really, that’s super cool of you to offer.”

“I hope you come with me, Darnold. It’d be awesome if we could keep working together.” They said kindly. “It’s been, what, ten years since we first met? I mean, not that I think we’d just stop being friends altogether if we don’t work in the same space, but y’know.”

Darnold maintained his anxious smile, a lot more forced now as it hit him just how long it had been. Ten whole years?

“Uhh...hey, can I ask you a super weird question?” Darnold asked nervously.

“Yeah, sure.”

“...What’s your name?”

They stared at him dubiously before laughing. “C’mon, man, what kind of joke is that?”

Darnold frowned uncomfortably, not responding.

“...Dude, you don’t know my name?”

“It’s not that I didn’t care to know.” Darnold explained, leaning back from his work and pulling his goggles down to rest around his neck. “It’s just—I don’t know, you get that thing where you feel like you _should_ know, you’ve been talking for forever, but now it’s too late to ask.”

“For _ten years?_ In ten whole years, you never actually tried to find out my name?”

“Exactly! It’s been years! But—all that about how long it’s been and how you see us being friends even if you move on and all that, I feel bad not knowing.” Darnold went on guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

His friend responded. Darnold saw their mouth move, he heard the sound, but he couldn’t make it out.

“Uhh, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“My name. It’s—”

Darnold paused. “...S-sorry, one more time?”

Once again, he couldn’t understand their name. Darnold chose to nod, giving them an understanding expression.

“Okay. Got it.” Darnold replied. “Thanks. I’m sorry about that.”

His friend snorted, rolling away from Darnold to get back to work. “It’s fine. I know you don’t mean anything by it.”

The rest of the night went by quietly. A little uncomfortably quiet—his friend normally would be goofing around a little bit, but they just focused on their work. Darnold wondered if there had been some better way of handling that, especially considering it apparently hadn’t even _worked._ Now they would be paying attention, wondering if he remembered, right?

Darnold tried to plunge himself back into work to avoid the guilty feeling washing over him, but he couldn’t stop stressing about it. He liked his friend. And they seemed to like him, apparently enough to go out of their way to keep spending their time with him, but he really didn’t even know that much about them. They seemed to share his passion for science, at least, but that was all he could really definitively say about them. Was he just not paying close enough attention? He wondered. Or did they just not talk about themself a lot?

The rest of the night went by without incident, and things seemed to go right back to normal the next time he saw them on the following Tuesday. They gave him a Black Mesa business card with the hiring number on it, telling him they’d gone ahead and suggested him for a position. He laid it out on his desk when he got home, right beside his phone, and stared at it, chin rested on his fists as he weighed the options. Black Mesa was a highly pursued company with incredible pay—he’d had a professor who worked there who heavily recommended students try to get in. The dorm situation didn’t sound great, but based on what his friend had told him, it would cut down on the cost of living immensely.

He didn’t know if it was _safe,_ though. He hadn’t had one of his episodes in a while, and that was purely because he’d learned to go out of his way to avoid any unsafe zones. His days became just a single, highly traveled line, going into work and back home without detour. It didn’t leave room for exploration, but at least it was _livable._

Darnold let out a sigh, pushing the business card away and standing. His friend would just have to move on without him, he decided as he turned to go make dinner.

The second Darnold took a step, the room around him shifted out of focus. He yelped in surprise, taking a step back and falling back into his chair.

“What the fuck?” He breathed. He stood shakily, taking a tentative step away from his desk again, only to get the exact same result. No matter what angle he tried to leave at, he was left trapped in a tight circle around his desk. He buried his face in his hands, turning back to his desk and propping his elbows up on the surface.

Something _did_ feel wrong, he thought as he sat there miserably. Maybe he was supposed to apply to Black Mesa after all...?

Darnold picked up his phone and dialed the hiring department.

****

Transferring over to the newly formed mixology department at Black Mesa turned out to be a pretty good change. Black Mesa seemed to be safe for him—in fact, _entirely_ safe. Darnold had a tendency not to get too lost, just due to the fact that unsafe zones were always guaranteed to be where he _didn’t_ need to go—making it easy to find where he actually needed to be. Black Mesa, on the other hand, was a completely safe, massive labyrinth; Darnold got lost a number of times during his first few days there, until he was able to settle into his new routine.

Darnold and his friend spent the first few years working closely together with the assistance of a couple other people—one of the infamous Dr. Coomer clones, along with a Bubby prototype—but as other departments began to get more funding, slowly, their department shrank. The Dr. Coomer clone was the first to go, then the Bubby prototype, and then his friend, who had been pulled into a supervisor position overseeing a couple different departments. That left Darnold alone in the mixology lab, reporting his findings to his friend rather than working by their side. It was sort of sad to lose that consistent contact, but nice in its own way; he didn’t have to deal with the anxieties of talking to other people. He could just put on music and work on his own time. He got a sense for when the tram system was busy, so he cut down on his crowd anxiety immensely by timing his trek to the lab right before and after everyone else was flooding in to get to or from work. He reduced uncomfortable human contact pretty much as low as he could possibly get it—truly, a very on-brand Darnold achievement.

It was comfortable at first, sure, but then it hit him one night just how _lonely_ it was. His friend was always busy these days, and he’d pretty much wrecked his own chances of easily making new friends with his new routine. So, instead, he began to get on the tram while it was crowded again. It felt so different now than it used to, when he would take the bus to school, for example; these people were a lot more... _vital,_ maybe? On his first day on the crowded tram again, he crammed himself into the corner—they were _really_ packed in, but he didn’t mind too much—and stood there in silence, just staring out the window, listening to the many different conversations happening around him.

“No, we already tried that.” One of the voices said. Darnold turned, picking out the source of it. The man speaking was about his own age—sort of rare, actually, usually other employees were at least a couple decades older than him—talking to one of the Bubby prototypes. Or perhaps Bubby himself? He could never be too sure about that. “It’s just that—I mean, the cameras are, uhh, pretty much guaranteed to be destroyed. We can’t account for everything that could happen. We’re just using a bunch of cheap ones, now.”

“That fucking sucks.” Bubby replied. “How high is your budget that you can afford to order so many cameras?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know. I just—I just ask, and my request always gets filled.”

“I guess that’s the Lambda team for you.” Bubby huffed, crossing his arms. “I have to practically get down on my knees and beg if I even want a decent pen in anomalous materials.”

“I can get you a nice pen, if you want, we have lots of them in my lab.”

“No, it was just an example, Tommy, it’s fine.”

Darnold wondered what sort of project would require cameras like that. It was interesting, he thought, the way he could just passively listen and get the tiniest peek into a whole different life from his own; if he picked out any conversation on this tram right now, he’d probably have no idea what they were talking about. He never really appreciated how fascinating that was back during school; maybe he was just too wrapped up in his own world, he thought. One of the Coomer clones was talking to someone else about Dexter Jettster from Star Wars, another Bubby prototype just seemed to be saying random numbers at someone for some reason, and someone he didn’t recognize was talking about the importance of good quality paper, with a particular fondness for “that thick kind that feels almost powdery”. It was fun, Darnold thought—he finally understood why people watching was a thing.

Maybe the next step was to start talking to people, he thought. He didn’t want to bother his friend if they were busy, so maybe he could make some sort of tram acquaintance, someone he could talk to on the way in to his lab. The next day on his way in, he looked around at the people close to him. The Coomer clones always seemed nice, he thought; maybe he’d talk to one of them?

“Uhh—hi.” He said to the closest Coomer clone to him.

The Coomer clone turned to him curiously. “Ah, hello, Darnold.”

“Oh—are you the one who was working in mixology with me?” Darnold asked.

“Oh, no, I’ve worked in the Gamma labs for quite some time. I have access to all clone memories, though.” He explained sort of dismissively.

“Huh. That’s pretty cool. That must come in handy, right?”

The Coomer clone shrugged. “It’s really sort of neutral. It gets in the way sometimes when I’m trying to focus.”

“Oh, yeah, I can see how that could be an issue.” Darnold said awkwardly, tightening his grip around the handrail he was hanging onto. “So...how long have you been at Black Mesa?”

“The original has worked here for, let’s see...somewhere around 35 years, I believe.” He replied thoughtfully. “The cloning program has only been in effect for maybe 20, though. So _I’ve_ been here for 20 years.”

“Oh, so...hm. I guess I never really thought about that.” Darnold muttered. “What happens with your vacation time? Do you all like, go visit family on your own?”

“We don’t leave the Black Mesa facility.”

Darnold frowned. “...Oh. That sucks.”

The Coomer clone shrugged, looking back out the window.

Darnold bit his lip. Maybe talking about the cloning was a bad idea. Or maybe it was a good idea, and he should be doing something about how miserable that would be? No, he’d _volunteered_ to be cloned, right? Darnold was a little out of his depth with that.

“Where did you work before Black Mesa?” The Coomer clone asked.

“Oh, umm, I worked for a small company a few cities over.” Darnold replied vaguely. “It was _nothing_ like this. Black Mesa sorta feels like its own city.”

“It certainly does.” The Coomer clone nodded knowingly. “What did the company you worked for do?”

“Ummm...” Darnold paused. “I was...doing some chemistry work. Y’know. That sort of thing.”

The Coomer clone tilted his head curiously. “Was it research like the mixology lab, or...?”

Darnold frowned. “No, not like here, it was—uhhh...y-y’know. I was sorta just doing stuff they asked me to do.” He said uncertainly. What _did_ he do while he was there? He wondered to himself. Did he just have a really shitty memory?

“What about you? Or, I guess, the original.” Darnold opted instead to ask.

“The original Dr. Coomer nearly had a very promising career in boxing.” The Coomer clone said fondly. “I recall it must have been a lot of fun. He gave it up for science, though, and ended up working here.”

“Oh! I love boxing. Or—I love the _idea_ of boxing, I guess.” Darnold said with a smile. “I always wanted to get more into it. It seems like fun.”

Darnold paused as the tram announced the stop to the section of the facility his lab was in. “Oh, I guess I’d better go. Umm—thanks for talking to me, Dr. Coomer.”

“Of course. Have a good day, Darnold.”

“You too! Thanks.”

Darnold nudged his way off the tram, heading deeper into the facility. He’d successfully managed to have a full conversation with someone about something not work related, initiated by himself, he thought proudly. Even with his friend, they were always the one to start their interactions—and they always felt...different than his conversation with the Coomer clone. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it; as cruel as it would sound to say it out loud, his talk with Dr. Coomer felt almost more...fulfilling? Purposeful, even though it was just something to keep him busy on the tram to work?

Weird, Darnold thought as he stood on the elevator down to his lab. Well, regardless, all that would have to wait until later. He had some work to get through.

****

Darnold spent pretty much all of his time in Black Mesa, just like most other employees. This made for an incredibly boring routine after a couple of years; no amount of interesting conversations on the tram would keep things exciting. At least he was lucky enough to be passionate about his job; mixology was a lot of fun, and Black Mesa let him do incredibly wild research he never would have been able to do at his old job. Plus, with nobody else in his department, he could usually just play video games without consequence whenever he got too frustrated or bored with work, so long as he still produced good results. That was _something_ —but he was starting to wonder if he was missing out on the excitements of life by living where he worked. Maybe he just needed more friends? He considered as he settled into bed for the night one evening.

He felt...odd the next morning, to say the least. It wasn’t necessarily bad; just different. In fact, maybe it was sort of perfect? He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but as he stood there in his lab, he felt like he was in _his place_ in life, and nothing could ever be more perfectly in order.

That feeling changed a little bit when a blood-soaked group appeared in his lab. He knew Dr. Coomer and Bubby—and they were _the_ Dr. Coomer and Bubby, he couldn’t help but note—along with that one guy he saw on the tram sometimes, and a man in an HEV suit he knew. He wasn’t sure _how_ he knew him; when he announced his name was Gordon Freeman, it sounded right, even though he’d never met him in his life. Maybe he just seemed like a Gordon, he thought.

For however perfect his lab felt at the moment, the prospect of joining the group sounded even better, somehow. Maybe it wasn’t just the lab that he belonged in; maybe he belonged at Gordon’s side? That sounded right. They’d surely get up to some exciting things, he thought as he got ready to depart with the group—things he’d never gotten the chance to do before in life.

Except, well, having to fight soldiers ended up being a _lot_ more terrifying than he’d thought. In his panic, he ended up deciding to stay behind, kicking on his jet shoes and waiting on the upper level until he could no longer hear the explosive signs of Gordon’s group. Darnold could return to the safety of his lab again, and he could have a nice cold potion and wait for all this to blow over.

He didn’t, though.

Darnold was already outside of the lab, heart racing at the sight of all the trip mines. Jesus Christ, who put those there? Was it a trap for that weird group? Darnold floated over them carefully, touching down on solid ground where he was certain he’d be safe. He should really go back to the lab, he rationalized to himself, but something was...off. He tapped his dress shoes against the metal floor experimentally. The resulting sound they made wasn’t right, but for the life of him, he couldn’t put his finger on why. He patted himself down, expecting to feel the hem of his lab coat, the buttons on his dress shirt, the soft fabric of his tie—but he couldn’t feel where each different piece ended and began. Almost as if it was all painted on, just one large, professionally decorated onesie.

Darnold’s head felt fuzzy. He pressed his fingers to his temples and moved forward.

There were very clear telling signs of what paths that group had taken, blood stains and corpses littering the floor like a grotesque trail of breadcrumbs. Darnold followed along it for a little while, the hallways eerily silent as he walked. His mind wandered to something a little bit easier to consider than the strange thoughts that were threatening to send him into a panic right there next to a strange, humanoid-ish alien corpse. That one guy—Tommy? He was pretty cute.

Yeah. That was much easier to think about than literally anything else happening in front of him. He’d just think about that for a while.

He had been quiet—understandable, when everyone else in the group made so much noise—but really seemed to have an interest in mixology. He’d already been sort of interested, hearing him talk to his friends on the tram some mornings, but actually talking to him for once was sort of sealing the deal for him. And he could remember the name Tommy...Coolatta? Was that right? On some sort of HR directory when he first joined Black Mesa. Tommy was sort of a common name, but he got the distinct feeling that _had_ to be the same guy.

Darnold eventually found himself outside in the canyon between buildings. It was a real mess out here—more traps set up, more bodies, more blood. He was certain he must have made the right choice in staying behind. Whatever they were doing, it felt less like _escaping_ and more carving an incredibly violent path through the entirety of Black Mesa. Why didn’t they just...go up the canyon, hitch a ride to the next city over? Sure, that had its own risks, but it sounded infinitely less dangerous than constantly facing down against aliens and soldiers.

Darnold kicked on his jet shoes again and started to scale up the canyon wall. He was getting close to the top when out of nowhere, it all disappeared entirely, now faced with pitch black darkness. Darnold blinked a few times, immediately jumping to the conclusion he must have randomly gone blind, but when he looked down, he could still see his hands, his lab coat, and the canyon below him, Black Mesa buildings nestled between the walls. The canyon walls just sort of...ended, leaving sharp lines slicing through the endless void. Darnold took in a harsh breath, looking around himself frantically. That was it. That was all there was—just that small part of the canyon, just Black Mesa, and he could see _inside_ the buildings, there weren’t even any ceilings! Darnold gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tight, panic beginning to flood him to his very core.

Holy shit.

None of this was real.

The next thing Darnold knew, everything, even Black Mesa, even himself, disappeared. There wasn’t a sound, no flash of light; it was just gone. There one second, gone the next. Not only could he not see it, but he could feel the lack of existence quickly seeping into his head. He was going to be gone in a second as well, he thought as he could feel some other world being built in place of it all. A world he didn’t belong in, because he didn’t follow Gordon Freeman. Maybe being confronted with your sudden, possibly permanent death does things to your priorities—your brain probably can’t catch up in the mere moments you have left, so the last thing you were really thinking about comes back—leaving him with a strange final thought.

He didn’t even get to show Tommy the evil Powerade.

****

Darnold hadn’t thought he would ever open his eyes again. That would be it; he would just blink out of non-existence, and nothing he ever did or had the potential to do would ever matter.

He _did_ open his eyes, though. He was passed out on the dusty ground, and had to lift his hand to block the sun from his eyes. God, his head hurt. He dragged himself up off the ground, glancing around. There was a putrid stench—he got the feeling he knew exactly what it was, what with all the bodies still littered around, but he wasn’t too excited to think about that very hard, so he just began heading back into Black Mesa the way he had come.

By the time he got back to his lab, he was at a loss for what to do. Things felt...different, now. He was fully capable of removing his lab coat and tie again, and left both behind on the table as he rolled up his sleeves and sat down in his desk chair. He wondered briefly if he had simply had a weird dream, but the soldier corpses were still just outside his lab—so, what? Things were real, then not, and now they were real again? Was it _ever_ real? Was he actually even there, or was this some sick trick his mind was playing on him?

Darnold jumped in surprise at the sound of the intercom crackling to life.

 **“Attention. All remaining Black Mesa employees.”** The robotic intercom voice said. **“To those who are still alive, please make your way to an emergency phone to report your presence if you are able, and a rescue team will be at your location to help you exit the facility. Please provide your full name and employee number to the rescue team. If you are unable to reach a phone, please wait while the rescue team performs a sweep of the facility.”**

Oh, fuck that. By the sounds of it, last time they were apparently going to be “rescued”, the soldiers had begun killing everyone in sight. Darnold picked up the gun he had left behind with a shaking hand and started down the hallway Gordon Freeman and his friends had left through. He didn’t know what had happened to them, but he had a pretty good feeling they probably made it out okay—right? He could just follow the path of destruction, and maybe possibly make it out of the facility without trouble.

There was a little bit of trouble after all, but eventually, Darnold managed to claw his way out of the Black Mesa facility—not entirely unscathed, unfortunately; there didn’t seem to be any soldiers or aliens left, but he received a couple nasty shocks and fell down dangerous heights a few times, but he managed. The sun was setting behind Darnold by the time he got out, but he was _out—_ right? He tentatively took a few steps out towards the highway. No random dark void yet. He let out a tense breath. It was fine. Things felt normal, just the same as they had always felt throughout his childhood, and he’d never stepped out into a void back then. So it would be okay, he reassured himself as he took another few steps. Except, of course, it wasn’t just the void—there was that strange anxiety response he got, too. Darnold’s head began to swim with panic. Any second now, any further, he was _certain_ he’d either hit that void again and rediscover nothing was real after all, or his brain would simply decide the outside world wasn’t safe, and he wouldn’t be able to leave. He took a few long steps back, struggling to get his breathing under control.

Darnold sat down on the ground, then clumsily laid down flat on his back. He felt exposed on all sides, if someone was going to kill him it’d be easy—but it felt like reality was beginning to close in on him. If he moved, if he did _anything,_ would that shatter the illusion?

Darnold wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, he was met by someone wearing all kinds of protective gear. She knelt over him, two fingers already on his neck to check his pulse. Darnold yelped in surprise, scrambling back and shakily pulling out his gun. He didn’t have the heart to even point it at her, but she took the hint, holding her hands up.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” She reassured him nervously. “I’m just search and rescue, I’m here to help.”

Darnold let out a breath, setting the gun down on the ground. “Oh, thank god.”

Darnold was sat in a strikingly empty van with only a couple other search and rescue volunteers and one other Black Mesa employee: Dr. Breen himself. God, he looked like shit—though Darnold wasn’t one to judge. Neither of them bothered to say a word to each other as Darnold was handed a blanket and a bottle of water. He just set both aside, burying his face in his hands as the van started down the highway.

They were almost back to the city when Dr. Breen finally spoke. “What department did you work in?” He asked.

“Mixology.” Darnold sighed.

Dr. Breen nodded. “So, you wouldn’t know about what happened in anomalous materials.”

Darnold shook his head. “I met, uhh...Gordon Freeman, though. He...worked in anomalous materials, right?”

Darnold wasn’t sure how he knew that. Well, he wasn’t really in the mood to question it.

“Ah. Yes. Gordon Freeman.” Dr. Breen sighed. “I’m sure that man’s alive out there, somewhere. I get the feeling he’s not that easy to kill.”

“That’s a really weird thing to say.”

Dr. Breen didn’t reply.

“Uhhhh...what do I do, now?” Darnold asked.

Dr. Breen leaned his head back. “If you have nowhere to go, I can get you a hotel room for a few days, while I get everything sorted out. Not like I’m going to be able to sleep after all this, anyway.”

Darnold nodded. “Okay.”

Dr. Breen put him up in a _really_ nice hotel, at least. He could’ve been put in the shittiest hotel in the state and he wouldn’t complain, but he got to sit there in a hotel bathrobe after a much needed shower, staring out the window at the lights of the city with a glass of wine, contemplating everything that had just happened. It was picturesque, really, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully enjoy it. He couldn’t help but look out at the still dark sky, wondering if the total blackness was just due to light pollution, or...

If there was nothing there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i remember how they said the scene with darnold got a little fucked up in the cast commentary--rather than getting freaked out by the fight which triggered prematurely on accident i think? he was just supposed to freak out when gordon tried to leave the lab iirc....fucked up to be an npc who just Can't leave a certain area or a set path am i right gamers?


	6. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman and his involvement with the resonance cascade, and his influence of reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic violence in this chapter!

When you’re thrown into an entirely new situation, you don’t normally begin to ask questions such as, “what did I eat for breakfast this morning?”, “what elementary school did I go to?”, or “if I can’t remember these things, or anything else prior to the minute I stepped into work this morning, does that mean this world is fake?” You just focus on the dangers at hand. The aliens and soldiers coming at you, the people you want to protect who put themselves in danger time and time again, the puzzles you have to solve—all these things take priority. You don’t have time to question your existence when your life is on the line.

So that’s all Gordon Freeman focused on when the resonance cascade hit—at first, at least. Little questions began to creep up, questions that made his head hurt when he thought about it a little too hard. Why was there music nobody else could hear? What was causing Dr. Coomer to mistake barnacles for ropes over and over again? Why was it that, whenever his colleagues definitely died, they would always reappear completely healthy? The good news was, he rarely had time to really dwell on these questions. He just pushed on relentlessly, because that’s what you do. You push on and on, you try over and over, you keep moving until the world decides it’s time for you to stop. And when you stop, you dream of a completely empty void where you can’t move or speak or even breathe, because you have no body with which to move, and there’s no air with which to breathe.

That’s perfectly normal.

  
  


Something very fortunate for Gordon was how shockingly resilient he was. He was capable of withstanding an absurd amount of pain—it sucked, sure, but he fell from massive distances and only had to lie there for a moment before he’d be back on his feet. The bad news was, when you have such a high pain tolerance, sometimes you barely even recognize when you’re getting hit. There would be points when he could hear gunfire and he’d turn around, only to realize _he_ was the one getting shot at, and then the pain would hit. That was also normal, though; sometimes your body just takes a minute to catch up. You have to recognize that you should be in pain for your brain to process it, right? That’s normal. And he’d take it over being in debilitating pain, given their current circumstances.

At least, that’s how it was for a while. Benry and Bubby had been acting so strangely, and now were urging him to enter a room in the most suspicious way possible. As the lights clicked off around him, leaving him in total darkness, Gordon felt a sharp pain against the back of his head. He let out a grunt as he stumbled forward, just in time for the sensation of a knee slamming into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. He collapsed to the ground, trying desperately to take out one of his weapons, but was stopped by a pair of hands that wrenched his arms roughly behind him. He could hear the voices of the others, Tommy so whole-heartedly terrified for his safety while Bubby and Benry cheered for Gordon’s downfall, and Dr. Coomer only characteristically commenting something about Playcoins. _Not that any of them could truly understand,_ Gordon caught himself thinking. He withstood a few more hard hits helplessly, any attempted movement sluggish and weak. Like the particles of reality were thickening around him, slowing him down and restraining him. He tried one last time to pull away from his captors as he saw a brief glint in the corner of his eye—something shiny catching in what little light there was left in the room—then...

The worst, sharp, agonizingly white hot pain Gordon had ever experienced in his entire life, slicing through skin, tendons, bone—he let out a strangled scream, burning nausea rising in his stomach until he could taste stomach acids. It had never been this bad. Not once in his whole life had he experienced pain this way. This pain rattled him to his very core, it tore at his mind like the knife was glowing hot and dissecting his brain. _This wasn’t supposed to happen._ He choked back vomit as he heard the remains of his arm drop to the floor, completely severed from his body. His head began spinning as his captors roughly took hold of him, only barely processing what his friends—no, the ones who had betrayed him—said as they left the room in a hurry, allowing him to be dragged away by soldiers.

  
  


Something was wrong.

Well, clearly—he’d just been betrayed by people he’d been nothing but helpful to. He’d saved their lives more times than he could count, and this was how they treated him? For however furious he was about that, though, that wasn’t it.

It was that pain he’d been in. It was so different from all the other pain he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t even just physical—it had scarred his mind, left him with an ever pervasive sense of wrongness that nagged at him the rest of their journey. When you shake a box, you can get a sense of what might be inside—so when his entire reality was shaken around him, he finally came to notice a presence in his head that understood everything; but despite his efforts in little moments of downtime, he couldn’t quite tap into it.

Sometimes it would slip out, though. Dr. Coomer seemed to understand what was going on much more than he did, and when he asked Gordon such a simple, heart-wrenching question, that part of Gordon took over.

“None of this is real, is it?” Dr. Coomer asked, stood in front of his passport.

“...No.” Gordon replied automatically. So sympathetically, so honest. Like a parent who can only nod when confronted by their child who figured out the true fate of their beloved pet. Absolutely no point in lying for their own protection, anymore.

It had come from his own mouth, but Gordon wasn’t sure why he said it. And he wished he hadn’t. So, he did what anyone else in his position would do: he pushed it out of his mind and forgot about it.

  
  


It hadn’t been an easy journey, by any means. Gordon had been close to death so many times he lost count, and as they reached the end of their journey, he really felt like they were on the verge of their entire world unraveling around them. Gordon and the others finished off the ultimate showdown against Benry, though, only barely making it out by the skin of their teeth, but they _made it._ Everything was going to be okay, Gordon thought for a moment as Benry’s massive form floated above them in a blinding light that slowly enveloped them, wiping away the entire world they had just occupied.

And Gordon’s efforts were rewarded with an invitation—no, a threat—to show up at Tommy’s birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.

Gordon sat sideways on one of the chairs in a sea of empty tables as strange electronic music played, staring off in the distance as everyone else enjoyed the party. He looked down at the sharp angles of his hands. They felt like they were miles away from him, his consciousness slowly drifting away until he’d fade directly out of his body. He could see and hear everything just fine, physically, and yet there was a harsh disconnect, like he was in Bubby’s tube, a thick layer of _something_ keeping him away from everything else.

“Mr. Freeman?”

Gordon looked up, eyes struggling to focus on Tommy. Tommy pulled up a chair beside him, fiddling with a Beyblade in his hands. “Are you doing okay?” He asked gently.

“Wh...yeah, of course.” Gordon replied hastily. “Why wouldn’t I be? We just beat Benry, it’s your birthday, everything’s alright now. You should go enjoy it.”

“Well, yeah, but you should enjoy it too, Mr. Freeman.” Tommy insisted. “Come on, you should come dance with us!”

“Uhh...maybe later.” Gordon said, trying to sound genuine. “I think I’m just gonna sit here for a few. I’m _really_ tired after...you know, everything that just happened.”

“...Alright.” Tommy muttered, standing up. There was something in his eyes—something he wanted to say, but must have been thinking better of. He turned slowly back to his father, who was sat on a bench and watching Tommy expectantly as he approached him.

Gordon looked back in front of him. God, he was exhausted. Maybe life would make more sense after he managed to get a full, good night’s sleep in a real bed, in real pajamas. Sleep deprivation did a lot to people’s heads, right? That was probably why he was feeling so...disjointed.

Gordon sat through the rest of the birthday party in relative silence, watching everyone else have a good time. He wanted to find it charming, how everyone else finally got a chance to sit down and relax in what seemed to be true safety, but his brain was stretched thin by a pair of uncaring hands, a rubber band threatening to snap at any second. They’d just been through hell. They’d just killed someone who turned massive and overpowered, only barely making it out by the seat of their pants. Reality probably wasn’t what it seemed, and did any of them _care?_ Did they have the capacity to care?

  
  


_Who the fuck is Gordon Freeman?_

****

“Gordon Freeman is...an interesting, very powerful, subject.” Tommy’s father looked pointedly at Mr. Freeman sitting alone at one of the tables.

“Yeah. He’s...he’s the player.” Tommy replied, brow furrowed. “I know that already.”

“Not necessarily.” Tommy’s father said, turning back to look at Tommy. “He’s more of a...puppet, if you will. He is now facing a—difficult, crisis, that will greatly affect all of us.”

Tommy frowned, looking down at his hands. “...Well, we’re all gonna disappear soon, anyway—right?”

Tommy’s father was quiet for a long moment. “Possibly.”

“Umm...can I ask you something? Before we go?” Tommy asked.

“Go right ahead, Tommy.”

“That was _you_ who—who got me my job at Black Mesa.” Tommy said. He had intended it to be a prodding question, but it came out as a statement instead, and his father simply nodded. “So—you...you’ve been around all along, you uhh—you knew where I was. Why didn’t you raise me, then?”

Tommy’s father raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, I am a very... _busy_ , man, Tommy. I have intergalactic matters to handle.”

“ _Intergalactic?_ ” Tommy echoed in disbelief.

“Yes, Tommy, of course. Don’t tell me you never realized.”

Well. This might as well happen, Tommy thought as he looked back at Mr. Freeman. He might as well realize his father was an alien after everything, right when he was about to disappear forever. If he weren’t trying so hard not to fall into despair about his upcoming demise, he might have pushed it further with his father, asking him more questions about his conception and why he was left behind. As it was now, though, he didn’t think he had the energy to care too much.

With a short sigh, Tommy turned to his dad again. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Hmmm?”

“What the fuck happened with Benry? Do you—do you know?”

Tommy’s father took in a sharp breath that turned out to be a strange sigh. “The one you know as Benry, is, an anomaly I cannot fully understand. I may have been the, catalyst, in what...brought him to be, but—I have the feeling you are closer to the answer, than I am.”

Tommy frowned. That wasn’t a satisfying answer at all, but again, it was hard to be too caught up in the details when he was about to die soon.

“We don’t have...very much time left. You ought to enjoy your, party, Tommy.” Tommy’s father said with something close to a smile. “I did this all for you.”

Tommy pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “Okay. Thanks, uhhh...” Tommy paused. He didn’t even know this man’s name, and he most certainly wasn’t going to call him Dad. He finally stood, glancing to his friends. Sunkist was here, enjoying herself in a new environment. Mr. Freeman was still staring into space alone, and Bubby and Dr. Coomer were currently dancing hand-in-hand. Maybe he’d try one more time to corral Mr. Freeman, get him to have fun in their final moments like everyone else. He wouldn’t want anyone to be alone and moping at a time like this. Tommy put on as convincing a smile as he could muster when he turned back to his father. “...Thanks.”

****

 _Ksshh._ “Hello? Testing, testing...is...is this thing on?”

If there were any eyes left to open, one might have seen a pair open curiously, searching for the general direction of the friendly, grandfatherly voice reverberating into nothingness—never reaching anyone’s ears, because there were no ears left to hear him.

“Ah! Hello, Gordon!”

Oh. Gordon Freeman. Someone had existed, once, by that name. Had heard that phrase countless times, always reaffirming, always a reminder that _Gordon Freeman_ was the one speaking, the one being referred to. Not anyone else. Not an unseen pair of eyes watching, an unseen pair of hands puppeting the man they spoke to like a marionette.

As if sensing these facts that were ringing out into what little reality there was left, rapidly dissipating like echoes, the one who was still firmly _Dr. Harold Pontiff Coomer_ spoke again. “I’m...a-assuming that’s your real name...you wouldn’t lie to us. Would you?”

No. Of course not. It wasn’t anything insidious like that; it was a half truth, something that really didn’t need to be made known to the NPCs, because—

“Well...you finally did it! You survived the resonance cascade! You brought us all to hell and back, alive! You made it to the ultimate birthday bash at the end of the world! You _beat the video game!_ ”

Oh, so he wasn’t talking to Gordon. He was talking to the unseen puppeteer. He made polite, friendly, desperate pleas to not be forgotten by the puppeteer. If Gordon Freeman still existed, if he had a stomach, it would be churning at the thought of leaving Dr. Harold P. Coomer and all his other friends behind.

As the sound of a phone clicking into place echoed into the final remnants of reality, the very last particles of what could be considered something even _faintly_ existing were starting to fade. But the faint concept of a man feeling sick at the idea of his friends disappearing forever flashed harshly in the void like lightning, zapping across the final flecks of reality. It burst into a cascade of colors, hardening into structures that began to build themselves before the man’s very eyes—which had blinked once, twice, three times, practically willing themselves into existence. He watched reality spark to life, piece by piece, forming around him at the center of an entirely new universe.

Gordon Freeman could shape it to his will, take hold and make it his own

  
  


if only he knew how to reach out.

  
  


Gordon woke up again in Chuck E. Cheese, lying flat on his back with his hands on his stomach. He stared up at the fluorescent lights that burned into his eyes, listening to the sounds of the others waking up as one of the employees urged them to leave. Yes, they should leave, he thought. But he didn’t move an inch. There was a disconnect in his brain—he could feel his body from head to toe, he could blink, he could breathe; but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out how to willingly move his body.

Dr. Coomer knelt down beside him, placing a comforting hand to his shoulder. “Come along, Gordon, we’d better leave this fine establishment.” He said gently.

Gordon blinked. He took a deep breath, then twitched a finger on his left hand. He closed his eyes tightly, slowly lifting one hand to his head as he pushed himself up onto his elbow with the other. Bit by bit, movement by tiny movement, Gordon stood, looking around at the restaurant carefully. Had everything always been this...bright? This sharp? Smooth? _Real?_

Gordon instinctively took a headcount. Benry was dead, Darnold hadn’t showed up, and Tommy’s dad seemed to have disappeared— _good_ , Gordon thought—leaving him only with Bubby, Tommy, and Dr. Coomer. A manageable group. They ushered him out of the restaurant, doors pointedly locking behind them as they stood in the cool night air. Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to get his thoughts together.

“I...guess I can take you guys to my place for now.” He suggested, throat distinctly uncomfortable in an unfamiliar way as he spoke. “Jesus Christ, my head hurts.”

“I would love to see your house, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer replied kindly.

Gordon began looking around, trying to get his bearings on where the hell they were when a sound echoed from around the corner of the building. It was a quiet chittering, something that immediately brought to mind small, sharp legs ending in claws, flinging themselves directly at his face, trying to latch on and take control. Gordon took in a sharp breath, whirling around and lifting his hand to summon his crowbar. He closed his fist, making a clicking motion, but nothing appeared.

Wait, why would that summon his crowbar? He couldn’t just _summon_ a crowbar. Gordon looked down at his hands.

“Where the fuck is my crowbar?” He murmured to himself.

Something round stepped out from around the corner. Gordon took a long step back, clicking on the flashlight in the HEV suit to shine on their assailant; revealing something decidedly not a headcrab. It was fluffy, mostly non-threatening—just a raccoon. Gordon let out a relieved sigh, clicking the flashlight back off and turning back around to investigate their surroundings before a sharp pain shot through his head. He pressed his hands to his temples, trying to alleviate the pain a little with a quiet grunt.

“Are you alright, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asked gently. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

Gordon shut his eyes, feeling the strong, comforting arm of Dr. Coomer around his shoulders. “I agree, Gordon, we should get you home. Where do you live? We can take a taxi!”

Gordon struggled big time giving the taxi driver directions to his apartment. He didn’t remember his address, and he didn’t have any sort of identification on him that had his address printed on it—oh god, he was probably going to have to make a trip to the DMV to replace his ID if he left his wallet at Black Mesa—so he did his best to give the driver shitty landmarks. _It’s near a gas station, the one with the bear statue in front I think? It’s tall, it’s probably near a street called Terry Avenue._ Eventually, the well-seasoned driver got them to the parking lot, and once Dr. Coomer graciously paid the driver, Gordon directed them up to what he was pretty sure must have been the correct floor, then what was probably the right door. Remembering he had no keys, he knocked and prayed.

Gordon didn’t recognize the person at the door immediately, leaving him to wonder if he’d gone to the wrong door—but he looked back at him with recognition in his eyes.

“Gordon! Holy shit!” The person blurted out. “You were gone for so long, I thought you _died._ ”

“I—yeah, sorry about that.” Gordon replied awkwardly. Now that he was talking, Gordon was beginning to remember: although Gordon normally dropped Joshua off at a daycare center before work, sometimes he expected to be working particularly long into the evening after the daycare closed, thus requiring a babysitter. And his usual go-to was an old college friend. _Damn, did he really have friends outside Black Mesa?_ Gordon suddenly wondered. “I can pay you back for the extra time.”

“What? _Pay_ me? Did you hit your head or something?” His friend asked, jabbing him playfully with his elbow. “Josh was worried about you, dude.”

“Aww, poor guy.” Gordon murmured. “He asleep now?”

“Yeah, he went down about an hour ago.”

“So...uh, listen, I’ll...talk to you later about everything, but for now, I just need to get to bed.” Gordon went on, frowning apologetically at him. “We just went through a _lot_.”

He looked past Gordon, at his new group of friends. “...Yeah, seems like it. Sure, just call me later, I guess.”

“Of course. Thanks, man, really.”

Eventually, the babysitter was on his way, and Gordon led the group quietly into the apartment. He poked his head into Joshua’s room, relaxing a little at the sight of his son—he was sound asleep with his head on the wrong end of the bed, blankets tangled around him—and quietly shut the door to let him rest. He could say hi in the morning, he reminded himself. He helped the science team get settled in the living room, Tommy volunteering to take the mat he rolled out on the floor while Dr. Coomer and Bubby settled right up against each other on the pullout couch. Gordon sighed as he tried fruitlessly to get the HEV suit to unlock.

“Man, how am I supposed to take this thing off?” Gordon whispered in exasperation.

Tommy was on his feet in an instant, circling around Gordon to help examine the suit. It took quite some struggling, shoving things into ports in the back until they heard a satisfying _clunk_ , and the suit finally unlatched around Gordon’s body; he was able to take it apart piece by piece with Tommy’s help until he was left only in the skin-tight jumpsuit always worn underneath the HEV suit. With a deep sigh of relief, Gordon collected the pieces of the HEV suit and dropped them in the kitchen near the garbage, to be disposed of later.

“Thanks, man.” Gordon said quietly to Tommy, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Mr. Freeman, what about your hand?” Tommy asked, indicating to Gordon’s new hand.

“Oh. Yeah.” Gordon lifted his new prosthetic for Tommy to see fully, styled exactly like the HEV suit. “Uhh, your dad sorta gave this to me. It’s not part of the suit or anything, I guess it’s just my hand, now.”

Tommy didn’t say anything, just quietly examined the hand.

“You guys need anything else?” Gordon asked, turning to Bubby and Dr. Coomer.

“I need you to let me fucking sleep.” Bubby grumbled from the pullout couch.

Bubby’s tone was harsh, but it was hard to take him seriously with Dr. Coomer nestled comfortably right up against him. Gordon almost called them cute, only deciding against it when he realized Bubby may bite his head off if he did. “Yeah, alright. G’night, guys.”

Gordon stopped at Joshua’s door as he headed for his room, opening it quietly to check on him again. He stepped inside this time, kneeling down at the edge of his bed. Gently, doing his very best not to wake him, Gordon placed his hand on his small chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed.

He could see him, he could hear him, feel him—so he had to be real, Gordon asserted to himself.

Gordon left Joshua alone after that, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him and heading back to his own room. He didn’t even have the energy to bother changing into proper pajamas; as far as he was concerned, the jumpsuit was ten times more comfortable than the HEV suit, therefore suitable to sleep in. So he dropped face-down into his bed, nestling comfortably into his blankets. Oh, god, he hadn’t been this comfortable since...

Well...

Gordon couldn’t recall.

****

It was the deepest night of sleep Gordon had ever gotten in his life, but he didn’t necessarily reap the benefits of it. When he woke to the sounds of Joshua stomping around and shouting at his house guests—Josh was never shy, after all, Gordon recalled—he felt like he must have flatlined at some point in the night, and was only just barely starting to come back to life. In fact, he was starting to wonder if he’d ever properly slept at all in Black Mesa before his bedroom door burst open.

“Daddy!!” Josh screamed in excitement, climbing up on to Gordon’s bed and smacking his chest several times. Gordon winced—even a couple years after top surgery, his chest was still fairly sensitive, after all.

“Hey, bud.” Gordon greeted with a sleepy smile. He pushed himself up on one elbow, pulling Joshua in for a hug with the other. “Sorry I was gone for so long.”

“There’s people here.” Joshua garbled—it was barely coherent in the way toddlers speak, but Gordon could understand just fine.

“Yeah, those are my friends. They’re gonna be staying with us for a little bit.” Gordon explained, pulling away from him to stand and briefly change into pajamas. “Did you wake them up?”

“No.”

Gordon snickered, shaking his head as he heard the others now talking outside. Gordon scooped up Joshua in his arms and headed out to join the group. Tommy had already figured out the locations of all the items needed to make a pot of coffee, sitting at the kitchen table with his chin rested in his hands and eyes closed as he waited. Bubby was just now finding the remote, still wrapped up in Dr. Coomer’s arms as he turned on Gordon’s TV.

“Hey, guys.” Gordon greeted with a yawn. “Sorry about Josh.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Freeman.” Tommy replied groggily.

“Your boy is very cute, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer chimed in, though he sounded like he was only just barely awake.

Gordon headed into the kitchen, trying to recall the general elements of it in order to pull together a decent breakfast for the group. Joshua leaned over in Gordon’s arm, slapping the propeller on Tommy’s hat clumsily to get it to spin. Tommy looked up, smiling at Joshua.

“Oh, yeah, Josh. This is Tommy.” Gordon introduced. “Say hi to Tommy, Josh.”

Joshua didn’t say hi. Instead, he pulled Tommy’s hat right off his head to inspect it closer.

“What—Josh, give that back!” Gordon scolded.

Tommy laughed, shaking his head. “That’s—that’s okay, Mr. Freeman, I don’t mind.”

“Actually, do you mind holding onto him for a few?” Gordon asked. “I don’t remember what the hell I’ve got going on in here.”

Tommy nodded and held out his arms, accepting Joshua carefully. Gordon turned back to the kitchen, assessing what he had to offer.

He needed to go grocery shopping. All he had for breakfast was frozen waffles.

Gordon slowly, painstakingly tried to get them decently cooked for the group, but something was horribly wrong with his toaster. God, he really lived like this? A mostly empty fridge and pantry, a half broken toaster, all in an apartment an hour away from Black Mesa? How was he always making sure Joshua was taken care of like this? He wondered guiltily as he set the plates out for the group and sat down.

“Are you alright, Gordon?” Dr. Coomer asked between bites of his food. “Are you not having any?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Gordon sighed, stealing a small piece off of Joshua’s plate to munch on. “I’m just tired. I’ll eat properly later.”

“Mr. Freeman?” Tommy said, pushing his plate aside to rest his head in his hands again as he looked at Gordon.

“Yeah, Tommy?”

“Do you...feel any different?” He prodded. “Like, _existentially?_ ”

Gordon blinked. “...Huh?”

Tommy didn’t elaborate—he didn’t seem like he had the words to make himself any clearer.

“Uhhh...I mean, I don’t know.” Gordon said, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been feeling weird ever since we beat Benry, but like I said, I think I’m just tired.”

Tommy took a long, contemplative sip of his coffee before he spoke again. “Mr. Freeman, you...you acknowledged that, like, none of what was going on in Black Mesa was real. Do you remember that?”

Gordon stared down at a spot on the table—it looked like paint that didn’t quite get scrubbed off after Joshua must have been set loose with acrylics—as everything immediately began to feel distant again. If he closed his eyes, he could’ve sworn he was floating in that void again, not sat at his shitty kitchen table with his friends and son.

“I...” Gordon started, then stopped. After a pause, he finally glanced up at Tommy. “I guess so.”

“So...does it feel different now? At all?”

Gordon didn’t know how to answer that. He opened his mouth to give him any response, even just to acknowledge that he heard him, but nothing came out, so he closed it again.

“...Tommy, perhaps we should leave Gordon be for a moment.” Gordon barely registered Dr. Coomer suggesting gently.

Gordon simply sat there for a while as the rest of the group proceeded with breakfast. He felt that strange disconnect again in his head—just like at Tommy’s birthday party, he might as well have been separated from the world by a thick layer of glass. When he distantly noticed Joshua trying to get his attention, he glanced up at him, just in time to watch Dr. Coomer scoop him up lovingly in his arms. Gordon smiled slightly at the sight, Dr. Coomer easily matching Joshua’s high energy by tossing him in the air and catching him several times. He could get used to this, Gordon thought. After however long it had been in Black Mesa, spending almost every possible moment in fear, it was nice to enjoy moments of domesticity like this with his strange new friends.

A loud ringing sound from behind Gordon nearly made him jump directly out of his skin. Everyone had jumped in surprise, in fact, and now stared at the phone, collectively breathing out a sigh of relief when they realized there was no danger. Gordon tried to shake the static from his head as he stood and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Ah, Dr. Freeman. It’s good to hear you made it home.” A familiar voice greeted. Where had he heard that voice, again?

“Dr. Breen?” Gordon suddenly asked, speaking before his brain even caught up. He hadn’t ever talked to him directly—he’d only heard his voice in recorded memos he sent out across the facility.

“Yes, it’s me.” Dr. Breen replied. “I’m calling to get a few things settled with you after...well, the incident at Black Mesa. Regrettably, we’re no longer going to be in operation anymore.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Gordon scoffed.

“Now, I’m not _officially_ aware of what would have caused the incident.” Dr. Breen continued. “The information I could gather could be quite damning, if I wanted it to be, however...well, let’s just say there’s someone very high up who is invested in ensuring your stability after everything that’s happened.”

Gordon paused for a long moment. “...What? What the hell does that mean?”

“How much would you estimate it would take for you to keep quiet about everything that happened in Black Mesa?” Dr. Breen asked.

“...What, like, money-wise?”

“What else would I be referring to?”

Gordon was quiet for a moment, looking around at his sad, sad apartment, then locking eyes with his son, still held in Dr. Coomer’s arms. “...Is a billion too much?”

“Yes, Gordon. A billion is too much.”

Gordon couldn’t help but snicker a little.

“Dr. Freeman, take this seriously, won’t you? I don’t have all day.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, I feel like I’ve never had more in my account than like, a couple thousand at my absolute highest point.” Gordon prattled. “Uhhh...300 thousand?”

“Consider it done.” Dr. Breen replied as Gordon heard paper shuffling on the other end. “Now—”

“Wait, really? Is it too late to ask for more?”

“ _Yes,_ it’s too late. I’ll be sending you some paperwork in the mail to fill out, and you may expect a call similar in nature from one of my contacts with the department of defense as well. Now, am I wrong to assume Bubby is with you?”

Gordon glanced over at Bubby uneasily, who immediately tensed at the eye contact. “...Why do you ask?”

“Enough with the suspicion, Dr. Freeman, it’s not like I have anywhere to put him.” Dr. Breen said dismissively. “I’m just going to help him get settled into society. Would you let me talk to him, please?”

Gordon held up the phone as Dr. Breen talked, looking at Bubby with raised eyebrows. Bubby crossed his arms uncomfortably as he thought it over, Dr. Coomer giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. It was such a kind, familiar touch, and Bubby’s shoulders immediately relaxed a little bit. Finally, Bubby nodded, and Gordon handed over the phone.

Everyone else in the room got a turn to talk to Dr. Breen, wrapping up loose ends and receiving promises of money. Gordon finally took Joshua back from Dr. Coomer, looking around at his apartment as the others talked. Three hundred thousand dollars—he could buy a new house with that kind of money, right? But that money would probably start dry up fast between the cost of the house and getting settled in. He might need to get another job to support Joshua properly. Or...

Once everyone was done, Gordon hung up the phone and sat down in front of his friends with an exhausted sigh. “You guys wanna rob a bank?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess fair warning if u prefer good dad gman content....this is Not gonna be the fic that provides that agshdksdf...fucked up little man with a hubris


	7. REPORT: Regarding T.Coolatta and D.Pepper's discussion of the resonance cascade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update has so many chapters, they were just sorta short lol. i'm in formatting hell

Darnold didn’t sleep that night. He’d been checked in at about 2am, spent a little while trying to wind down, and finally began attempting to sleep at about 4am, to no avail. Too much was on his mind. Too many memories of bodies around him, too many thoughts about reality and how much it all even mattered. The terror he felt when he’d suddenly ceased to exist earlier had really stuck with him—having all this time on his hands now to enjoy existing should have absolved him of that feeling, right?

He just couldn’t shake it, though. Like if he merely turned the wrong direction, he’d step out of reality and disappear forever. The feeling paralyzed him in his bed, even when he wanted to give up on sleep and do something else with his time.

Eventually, when the panic began to finally subside, it was 7am. Darnold rolled out of bed, having no choice but to pull his tattered science team uniform back on so he could head downstairs for the free breakfast.

Darnold sat slumped over at a table alone, slowly sipping a mug of coffee and merely staring at his pancakes as if he could absorb the nutrients visually when he caught sight of a familiar face. Dr. Breen was serving himself some breakfast, wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing upon leaving Black Mesa, same as Darnold. When he turned to find a table, Darnold could see he looked just as exhausted as he felt. Their eyes locked, and Dr. Breen immediately headed over to his table, to Darnold’s great dismay.

“Good morning.” Dr. Breen greeted, sitting down in front of him. “Is now a good time to have a talk about what happened at Black Mesa?”

Darnold swallowed a sip of his coffee. “Well, I can’t imagine I’ll be feeling any more ready later, so might as well. I don’t actually really know anything about what happened, though.”

“No, I don’t need to hear your account.” Dr. Breen said dismissively. “I’m exhausted, so I’ll keep this brief. I just got off the phone with Gordon and his friends. Same as all of them, I’ll give you 300 thousand to never speak about Black Mesa again.”

Darnold choked on his coffee. He had to take a long moment to get his coughing under control, setting down his mug and turning away from Dr. Breen to compose himself. Finally, once he could breathe properly again, Darnold looked up at Dr. Breen. “300 thousand?! Like, _dollars?!_ ”

Dr. Breen only nodded.

“Well, fuck, that sounds good to me.” Darnold agreed. “I didn’t even wanna _think_ about what happened ever again.”

“I believe the department of defense is matching that same amount, but don’t quote me on that.” Dr. Breen went on, picking up his own mug of coffee. “I’ll get the paperwork to you later. I believe you’ll find one of the non-negotiable terms of agreement my contact laid out was that you will be allowed to discuss the events of the resonance cascade in approved therapeutic settings if necessary.”

“Your contact?” Darnold asked curiously.

Dr. Breen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just a man who worked closely with Black Mesa for a very long time. I’m sure he’s mostly concerned with Mr. Coolatta’s best interest, though.”

“...Huh.” Darnold muttered, taking a long sip of his coffee.

He and Dr. Breen ate in silence after that, and once they returned to their floor, Dr. Breen stepped into his room briefly to retrieve the paperwork for Darnold. Darnold spent a few minutes going over it all before signing, and Dr. Breen wrote him a check right then and there.

“Well, thank you for your services to Black Mesa, Darnold.” Dr. Breen said politely, folding Darnold’s paperwork and tucking it away into his jacket. “Best of luck to you going forward.”

“Oh, umm, wait.” Darnold said suddenly, setting the check aside on his little dining table. “I was sort of wondering if I could get Gordon’s phone number.”

Dr. Breen quirked an eyebrow at him before slowly nodding. “Well, seeing as the company isn’t in operation anymore, I suppose it’s not against the rules. Give me a minute.”

Dr. Breen left briefly and returned with a page torn from those hotel writing pads, Gordon’s phone number written down on it.

“Thanks.” Darnold said politely.

“I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to get all of this settled, so you have a week left in this hotel room, if you choose.” Dr. Breen said, nodding at the room. “If you need anything, you’ll know where to find me.”

“Oh, awesome. Thanks, Dr. Breen.”

Dr. Breen finally left the room for good, giving Darnold the quiet he needed to call Gordon. His hand hovered over the phone in his room, heart beginning to race. God, he hated calling people on the phone. It wasn’t just that, either—he was calling to just...invite himself into their lives. Now that they were safe from the resonance cascade, he wanted desperately to try again with them; they had common ground, and nobody else would ever understand what he went through but them, so he _should_ try again. Right?

Darnold forced out a tense breath and picked up the phone.

The phone rang a few times on the other end before he heard the _click_ of a wall phone being picked up. After a pause, he heard a familiar voice that made his heart begin to race all over again.

“Hello?” Tommy greeted.

“Uhhh...is this...Gordon Freeman’s house?” Darnold asked. It was a dumb question, of course it was Gordon’s house, but he didn’t know what else to say in the moment.

“Yeah, but uhh, Mr. Freeman’s busy right now. This is Tommy.” Tommy replied. “Can I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Darnold.”

“Oh!” Tommy suddenly exclaimed. “H-hi, Dr. Darnold. It’s—you made it out. That’s good.”

Darnold laughed nervously. “Yeah, despite it all.” There was an awkward pause, where Tommy waited for Darnold to get his thoughts together. Finally, Darnold took a deep breath and spoke again. “Uhh, so Tommy, I was...well, there’s not a whole lot of other survivors of Black Mesa. I was kinda wondering if...well, I could...talk to you guys about what happened?”

“Yeah! Well, I don’t know about everyone else’s plans or anything, but...I—I mean, I would really like that.”

“Cool! Maybe we could, um, meet up sometime, somewhere. I don’t...have a house right now.”

Tommy laughed uneasily. “I don’t either.”

Darnold laughed as well with a similar, unsure energy. “I uhh, just got some stuff settled with Dr. Breen, but I gotta get my check to the bank and all that. So maybe tomorrow, I could buy you lunch?”

“Oh, yeah! I love having lunch.”

“Cool, me too.”

“Oh, but—ummm, the confidentiality agreement.” Tommy said suddenly. “Maybe we should met somewhere, uhh, more private?”

“Oh, right.” Darnold bit his lip nervously. “...Maybe we could pick something up and take it back to my hotel room?”

“Okay!”

The two of them picked out a time and place to meet up, and Darnold hung up the phone, letting out a deep breath as his anxiety finally let up. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be quite so anxious when they met up—he did better with structured conversation that had a planned purpose, and their lunch was going to be exactly that. Talk about the resonance cascade together. It was going to be fine.

Darnold cashed in his check and bought some new clothes that weren’t singed and covered with spots of blood. He was sure to pick out something particularly nice looking—but still casual, of course, he couldn’t be too formal—for his lunch with probably just Tommy. He’d intended to invite everyone, but by the end of the conversation, it sounded like it was only going to be him; which was fine, he got the feeling if the others were there too, it might get...loud. Tommy seemed much more soft-spoken than the rest, so it was probably for the best he start out with befriending him and ease his way into a friendship with the others.

Except for that guard—Benry? He wasn’t particularly a fan of him, after he messed with his computer, but by the sounds of it, Gordon didn’t seem like he was a fan of him, either. So he might not even be around with the group at all, if Darnold was lucky.

The next day, Darnold stood outside the restaurant they’d picked out much too early, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his shirt. Tommy was exactly on time, though, right down to the minute—Darnold watched him approach with a friendly smile on his face and a _gigantic_ golden retriever by his side. The way Tommy’s bright yellow eyes caught in the sunlight made Darnold think they must have been glowing; it was sort of eerie on its own, but combined with his friendly expression, Darnold felt almost like he was staring at the sun in the best way possible. His chest fluttered as Tommy approached, voice suddenly caught in his throat. He’d remembered thinking he was cute before in Black Mesa, but now that he was actually going to _talk_ to him in a world Darnold was used to, he was at a loss for words.

“Hi, Darnold!” Tommy greeted politely.

Darnold, shocked out of his gay trance, finally found it in himself to speak again. “Hi, Tommy.”

“This is Sunkist, by the way.” Tommy introduced, indicating to his dog. When Sunkist was sat down, her head almost reached up to his shoulder—if she stood up on her hind legs, she’d probably be taller than Darnold.

“She’s _huge._ ” Darnold commented with a baffled smile.

“Oh, yeah, I made her like that.” Tommy replied casually, scratching behind her ear.

“You _made_ her?” Darnold echoed in awe.

“Yeah! Do you wanna pet her?”

Darnold reached out, allowing her to sniff his hand. She sniffed him calmly, licking his hand a couple times before Darnold moved to stroke her head gently.

“She’s beautiful.” Darnold complimented, moving in a little closer to scratch her neck. Once he pulled away, she barked once, and a blue orb that glowed slightly in the sun came out, drifting gently upwards towards the sky. Darnold’s eyes went wide as he watched it go, glancing at Tommy for an explanation.

“Oh, yeah, that’s the sweet voice.” Tommy explained, still as casual as ever. “I can do it too! It’s just dr—uhh, sorta draining to do.”

“Jeez, I feel like I’ve missed out on so much.” Darnold said with a nervous laugh.

“That’s okay! I can tell you everything.” Tommy comforted with another bright smile.

God, that smile was deadly, Darnold thought to himself as they entered the restaurant. They placed their food orders and took their paper cups to the soda fountain. To Darnold’s delight, they had Dr. Pepper—Darnold’s favorite out of their options, not that that was a surprise—and, Darnold noted with a quiet amused laugh, Sunkist. Tommy immediately filled his cup with that eagerly while Darnold began carefully mixing his with an intricate combination of drinks. He could feel Tommy’s eyes watching him curiously until he was done.

Once they got their food, the two of them walked together back to Darnold’s hotel, Darnold babbling nervously about soda fountains the whole way until they were in the privacy of his room. To his surprise, Tommy actually seemed interested; he didn’t say much while Darnold talked, but he looked like he was hanging onto every word.

“So, umm...the resonance cascade.” Darnold began once they’d settled down with their food. “What actually happened back there?”

Tommy shrugged. “It was something about, uhh—the sample we got, and frequency we used in the anti-mass spectrometer. But...I don’t think that even necessarily matters? It just...you know, had to happen. So it did.”

Darnold frowned, looking at Tommy curiously. “What’s that mean?”

“You know, the game? It was a hard-set, ummm, _event_ , there’s no changing it.”

Darnold stayed quiet, the cogs in his brain locking up as he got the impression he wasn’t getting something he should’ve already known. He was on the verge of understanding something, sure—it was probably pretty obvious, but Tommy’s scrutiny was making it hard to think.

“Oh, shit. Did you not know?” Tommy asked worriedly. “I’m sorry, I—umm, so...yeah, we were...in a video game.”

Darnold went through several stages of processing this information. First, it sounded so ridiculous, he wanted to immediately brush it off. Then, he remembered the void. It made so much sense in retrospect—what he had seen had simply been the outside of the map, and when he had ceased to exist for a while there, it was because Gordon and the others moved on to a different map. Slowly, Darnold nodded.

“Oh. Yeah.” He muttered, propping his elbow up on the table to put a finger to his chin as he thought. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. I just...sort of thought I had, like, a mental breakdown in there.”

“Y-yeah. I get that.” Tommy muttered.

“So, uhh...” Darnold looked around at the hotel room carefully, noticing Sunkist had decided to take up residence on his bed. “What’s...this, then? If it’s not the game, then—where are we?”

Tommy shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Dr. Coomer and Bubby had—they had um, some theories, but...we haven’t really had the time to think about it too much.”

Darnold nodded knowingly. “Yeah. I really didn’t expect there to be so much paperwork after, like, surviving some incredible disaster like that.”

“At the very least, we don’t like, have...uhh...limitations anymore, in the same way we—like, how we did in the game.” Tommy went on thoughtfully. “We can go anywhere and do anything, we’re not like, limited to programming. Or at least, it doesn’t feel like we are, anymore.”

Darnold got an uneasy feeling in his stomach at that. “That’s sort of troubling, though, isn’t it? That we don’t _know?_ ”

Tommy leaned back in his seat, taking a long moment to contemplate his response. Darnold waited patiently for him to get his thoughts in order. “Well...” Tommy finally began, “yeah, it could be. Maybe this is just, umm, you know...well, I—I’ve always sort of doubted that anything was real for a really long time. Not that I know for sure if I was right back then, or if I’m just...y-you know, uhh, I get delusions sometimes? So maybe it was that.”

Darnold nodded in understanding.

“But...I guess coming from that experience, umm, it doesn’t—it doesn’t feel so, like, bad?” Tommy continued, averting his eyes from Darnold. “You just have to, like...I don’t know. Maybe it _isn’t_ real. But we’re here anyway. There has to be a reason for it, right? We still experience things, it still has _meaning._ To us, to each other, to like...everyone, I guess. Just because Sunkist isn’t necessarily real doesn’t—uhh, doesn’t mean I don’t love her, right? That goes for everything else, too, so...I think it’s okay, either way.”

“Huh. Yeah, that makes sense.” Darnold replied thoughtfully. “But...what if it just _ends?_ At any time?”

“It could end at any time anyway, right? You could just— _anyone_ can die at any moment.” Tommy said in a tone that suggested he _thought_ that sounded reassuring. He leaned forward a little in his seat, into the sunlight that streamed into Darnold’s hotel room, and his eyes _glowed_ again. Darnold felt his face go hot at that, taking in the way his neatly combed hair caught in the light as well, his hand reaching over the table and stopping just short of Darnold’s. “Don’t get wrapped up in thinking about that, Darnold. It’s—you’re here _now._ So it’s okay.”

Darnold nodded immediately, tearing his eyes away from Tommy. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to be all doom and gloom there.” Darnold babbled. “I guess it’s just been a lot to think about.”

Tommy nodded knowingly. “That’s okay. I’ve had a lot on my mind, too.”

“...Like what?”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Had he not expected to be asked about it? Darnold wondered. After a pause, Tommy leaned back, fiddling with his plastic fork in his hands.

“Well...I found out I’m an alien, for one.” Tommy said.

Darnold snorted, feeling his stomach drop in panic the minute it happened. Tommy gave Darnold an incredibly disheartened look.

“God, I’m so sorry, that’s not—that was rude.” Darnold admitted. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. It was just unexpected, is all. I laugh when I don’t know what to say, sometimes. Please go on.”

Tommy eased back a little. “Oh, yeah, that’s okay. Yeah, it...I guess it should’ve been obvious, remembering some things from when I was growing up. But...did you ever see that man in the suit?”

Darnold shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, he’s...I don’t really know exactly what he is. But he’s not human.” Tommy explained. “And I guess, he’s—he was my dad that I didn’t know was still around all along. He left me in a Dunkin’ Donuts, then—uhh—I guess reappeared to get me my job at Black Mesa, and then threw me the only birthday party he’s ever given me at 37 years old.”

“...Wow. That’s rough.”

Tommy nodded exhaustedly. “Yeah. It’s—I sort of hate that he thinks he can just, like, walk in every now and then and think he did a good job? And he didn’t explain anything about me being an alien, either, or who my other parent is, _if_ I have another parent. He just—he threw me a pretty cool party and _left_ again. I don’t even know if I’d want him—want him to stick around, though, honestly. I’m 37 fucking years old, it’s kind of late for all that, right?”

Tommy stopped, looking a little overwhelmed. He patted his thigh a couple times, and Sunkist stepped off of Darnold’s bed immediately to sit at Tommy’s side, barking a few orbs at him. Tommy relaxed a little, running his fingers through her fur as he continued.

“It’s...it’s okay, though.” He said. “I mean, it’s not like—uhhh, it’s not like being an alien really changes anything about who I’ve always thought...thought that I was. At least, I don’t think it would.”

Darnold shook his head. “No, yeah, that makes sense.” After a pause, Darnold cleared his throat before speaking again. “Yeah, I uhh, sort of wondered—you know, your eyes, they’re so... _bright._ N-not that I think it’s weird, of course! They look nice.”

Darnold was immediately filled with regret at that, gripping his hands into fists underneath the table and fighting the urge to just get up and leave the room.

“O-oh, um, you think so?” Tommy asked with a smile.

“Uhh, yeah, I—I hope that wasn’t weird for me to say. Sorry.”

“Of course not!” Tommy comforted. “It’s...nice to hear. Thanks.”

The two of them talked for a long time after that, about the resonance cascade and their own lives before it all began. Darnold found out a lot about Tommy’s life growing up, and Darnold took a significant chunk of time to explain his potion research. It was only when it was starting to get dark outside that Tommy glanced at a clock with a disappointed look on his face.

“I-it was really nice talking to you today, Darnold.” Tommy said as he stood. “I should probably go back before the bus stops running, though.”

Darnold nodded and stood as well. “Oh, yeah, okay. Umm—do you...have a number I can call you at? Or just Gordon’s?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course.” Tommy pulled out his phone, pulling up the page to add a new contact and holding it out to Darnold. Darnold reached into his pocket and did the same, and they spent a quiet moment entering their information into each other’s phones. When Tommy handed his phone back, Darnold found the new contact added, with a couple fun symbols tacked onto the end of his name. “Actually, ummm, one other thing.”

“Hm?” Darnold asked curiously as he handed Tommy his phone.

“Ummm...I don’t think—uhh, there’s not really an easy way for me to ask this, but...” Tommy stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “...Do you wanna rob a bank with us?”


	8. REPORT: Regarding the housing arrangements of the "Science Team" and co.

Darnold wasn’t sure how the science team was able to just plunge themselves right back into action when they robbed several banks, and then the _White House_ —he was perfectly comfortable staying behind, providing support through potions, intel, and organization. Darnold wasn’t even entirely sure how this all worked, though; clearly, for some reason, the strings of reality decided to drop them right back into another video game. A different one entirely, in fact. Darnold stayed in some headquarters they were provided, receiving all the cash they’d managed to grab and splitting it up evenly as best as he could as he waited for them to return. It was a nice, repetitive motion to keep him occupied while he tried not to panic about reality.

Eventually, though, after an incredibly close call, the group returned to what Darnold had come to understand as the “real world” with all the money they’d stolen. Darnold panicked about it at first—what sorts of strange consequences would come from them bringing video game objects into the real world? Exactly how punishable was it to claim video game money as real, if people found them out? But the rest of the Science Team—and also Benry now—insisted to Darnold again and again it would be alright, so he forced himself to relax, just revel in the amount of money he had now after that and all the settlement money.

Darnold was sat in a public library near his hotel, the amount of time Dr. Breen was willing to pay for the room quickly running low. Not that it was too much of an issue, Darnold reminded himself—he could renew the room himself if he wanted with all the money he had now, but in his irrational, anxiety-ridden brain, he’d begun to see it as a hard deadline to find his own permanent home. He scrolled through house listings on one of the computers there, the timer in the corner of the screen ticking lower and lower as his hour of computer time ran out. He had several numbers taken down to call later for house viewings, but god, even now that he could afford it, it was a massively stressful decision to be making. Darnold let out a deep sigh as his phone rumbled in his pocket, taking a brief break to flip his phone open and check his messages.  
  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** hi darnold  
**DARNOLD:** hi!  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** r u still looking for a house?  
**DARNOLD:** yeah :( are u?  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** kinda  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** i was wondering if u would wanna b roommates?  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** we could split the cost and b in the same neighborhood as the rest of the science team  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** i emailed u 1 of the house listings i saw :)  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** only if ur ok with that of course!

Darnold tabbed over to his email and, sure enough, there was a new one from Tommy. He clicked the link, finding a nice, four bedroom/three bathroom house that was well within his price range, assuming he and Tommy split the cost evenly.

Darnold leaned back in his chair as he thought about it. It was a nice house, he assessed as he clicked through the provided photos. And if he was going to live with anyone from the Science Team (or Benry), he’d pick Tommy in a heartbeat. _Did_ he want a roommate, though? He’d hated the idea of a roommate so deeply years ago, but...it was nice to be spending more time with people socially, actually; he’d still have his own space to isolate in if he needed, but Tommy would always be there, close by whenever he was lonely. An uncontrollable smile quickly spread across his face. That sounded _really_ nice, actually.  
  
**DARNOLD:** thats a nice house!  
**DARNOLD:** i would love to check it out with u :)  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** :D **  
** **TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** ok ill call for a showing then

It all moved so quickly from there. Tommy and Darnold went to the showing, weighed their options briefly, then split the cost of the house. They moved what few belongings they had after leaving everything but the clothes on their backs behind at Black Mesa—Darnold had bought a few sets of clothes to get him by while he lived in the hotel, and that was pretty much all he had to move—then rented a small moving van to make a trip for furniture. They had made a comprehensive, thorough list of things they would need that they followed religiously as they wandered through the massive store; furnishing an entire house from scratch was no laughing matter, unfortunately, but it wasn’t all stressful. He and Tommy had fun selecting their furniture, and were in the section for couches when they spotted a familiar face accompanied by a small child.

“Mr. Freeman!” Tommy exclaimed. He took Darnold by the wrist, Darnold’s face burning hot at the contact as he let Tommy drag him over to Gordon. “Are you buying furniture, too?”

“Oh, hey guys!” Gordon greeted with a smile, holding the child’s hand tightly as he tried to reach for a massive plush set out nearby. “Yeah, I figure I should replace some of my old shit, now that I can. That couch was getting pretty old.”

Tommy nodded knowingly. “Yeah, that’s a good move.”

“So, you guys are moving in together?” Gordon asked. The brief glance down at Tommy’s hand, fingers still wrapped loosely around Darnold’s wrist, was not lost on Darnold.

“Yup!” Tommy replied with a nod. “It’s gonna be really cool, living—being in the same neighborhood. It’ll be like the dorms, but nicer.”

Darnold chuckled at the memory of his old dorm. “Yeah. _Much_ nicer.”

When the child tugged harder on Gordon’s hand, Gordon glanced down at him, smiling and scooping him up in his arms. “Oh! By the way. Darnold, this is my son, Joshua.”

Darnold grinned at Joshua, who didn’t look too interested in Darnold. “Hey, Joshua. I’m Darnold.”

Joshua only stared at Darnold briefly before turning to Tommy. “Where’s Sunkist?”

Tommy laughed. “Sorry, she’s at home.”

“Hey, actually, since we’re all here...” Gordon said, setting Joshua down and holding his hand again, “do you think we could help each other out with the furniture building and moving? I mostly just like, need someone to be able to keep an eye on Josh, but y’know, the arm might make it kinda hard on my end, too.”

Gordon held up his right hand to demonstrate. Darnold hadn’t even noticed at first, but the tubes were gone, and in their place was what looked like part of the glove and sleeve from the HEV suit. Looking a little closer, he noticed the ball joints on the fingers and wrist; so, it was a prosthetic. Darnold put his finger to his chin thoughtfully. The tubes had _grown_ right out of his arm after the potion. Just how many times did this man lose his arm? He wondered if there was still metal inside his upper arm from the tubes, or if they’d been removed, somehow. When he was snapped out of his contemplation by Tommy squeezing his wrist, Gordon was giving him a slightly amused look. Darnold’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“Huh—uhh, sorry, I spaced out.” Darnold muttered.

“So, you wanna work together on moving in?” Gordon repeated.

“Oh! Yeah.” Darnold nodded. “Moving on your own is bad enough. I can’t imagine moving with a kid to watch, too.”

“Sunkist can keep an eye on him.” Tommy suggested helpfully.

“I...don’t know how qualified a dog is to watch my son, but y’know, I think we’ll manage.”

The three of them finished shopping, then headed back to their neighborhood. Gordon’s prosthetic wasn’t quite dexterous enough to perform many fine, precise movements required for building furniture, but he was able to hold things up for Tommy and Darnold and read out directions, at least. Joshua ended up quite occupied with Sunkist after all, making it easy for the three to focus more heavily on their work. It took a long time, but eventually, they were finished with all the biggest, most exhausting tasks, and they all sat together in Gordon’s newly-furnished living room, watching some old VHS of Babe: Pig in the City Gordon happened to own as they drank their choices of special beverages—Tommy and Gordon opting for cheap alcohol while Darnold had a hot chocolate. Joshua had already gone to bed by that point, leaving them in relatively peaceful silence—at least, until everything surrounding Darnold disappeared.

No, that wasn’t right, he could still feel the couch beneath him; but that didn’t stop panic from surging in his chest. Beside him, Gordon let out a shriek, and he could feel him lunging off the couch.

“M-Mr. Freeman, it’s okay! It’s just the power!” Tommy blurted out.

Darnold instinctively reached for Tommy, desperate to confirm he was still there. He squeezed his hand tightly, looking in his direction—finding that the contact wasn’t even necessary. As Darnold’s eyes still struggled to adjust to the darkness, all he could see was the bright, pale golden glow of Tommy’s irises. Tommy squeezed his hand back, still holding onto Darnold as he stood and reached out for Gordon.

“Mr. Freeman—” Tommy repeated.

“Fuck!” Gordon shouted, and Darnold could hear a loud, dull thud. “Don’t—don’t touch me!”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy said gently. “Are you okay?”

Darnold blinked a few times, finally able to make out the vague outline of Gordon on the floor. He curled in on himself as Tommy knelt down—still holding onto Darnold’s hand.

“I—fuck, I’m fine, just...” Gordon wheezed. “Just give me a second.”

Darnold jumped in surprise at the sound of the front door opening. Gordon yelped in shock, scrambling to his feet as a new figure entered the house.

“Gordon, it’s me.” Bubby announced flatly, joined by the distinctive figure of Dr. Coomer. “We just came over to check if your power’s out, too.”

Gordon wheezed again, clutching his chest and dropping heavily to the floor.

“Oh dear, Gordon, are you alright?” Dr. Coomer asked.

“Alright, you baby, give me a second.” Bubby huffed, feeling his way into the kitchen as Dr. Coomer headed carefully towards Gordon.

Once Dr. Coomer was by Gordon’s side, Darnold saw Tommy’s eyes turn back towards him, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

“I-I’m fine.” Darnold said. It was true—now that his eyes were adjusting, his anxiety was starting to ease up a little bit. “Thanks, Tommy.”

Bubby returned shortly after with a source of light—a wooden spoon set on fire. Despite the blatant disrespect for Gordon’s belongings, he visibly relaxed now that he could see, burying his face in his left hand.

“Would you like me to calm you with my sweet voice?” Dr. Coomer suggested.

“God, no, no sweet voice shit.” Gordon grumbled. “I’m fine, seriously, just—you can ignore me.”

“You look very not fine, Gordon.” Bubby commented flatly.

“Yes, Gordon, I think—” Dr. Coomer started.

“I’m fucking serious! Just back off!” Gordon snapped. After a brief, shocked silence, he let out a shaky breath. “...Please.”

“I-I’m sorry, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer said, standing up and stepping back to give Gordon space.

“I’m gonna go check on Josh.” Gordon said quietly, taking the flaming spoon from Bubby. Gordon disappeared up the stairs, and everyone was quiet enough to hear the quiet creaking of a door opening.

“Yeesh.” Bubby whispered.

“We should, um, pick up some flashlights, sometime.” Darnold commented, if only to fill the awkward silence.

Eventually, Dr. Coomer began talking about some travel plans he’d made with Bubby for a little bit before Gordon returned with the still-flaming wooden spoon, an exhausted look in his eyes. He sat back down, pushing his hair that had fallen out of his ponytail behind his ear.

“Umm...sorry about yelling.” Gordon said awkwardly.

“That’s alright, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer replied in a friendly tone. “I’m certain the lights will be back on in no time.”

As if on cue, the lights flickered back on around them, rendering the flaming spoon useless.

“Ayyy, you were right.” Gordon said, his voice much more relaxed, now. “You guys wanna—”

Gordon stopped, a slack-jawed look of disbelief quickly spreading on his face. Darnold looked curiously at him, then followed his gaze past Dr. Coomer and Bubby. At the other end of the living room sat Benry, sitting in a folding metal chair Darnold didn’t recognize. He was wearing brand new pajamas underneath a hoodie—the tags still attached and everything—and a blue hunter’s hat lined with fur in place of his security uniform and helmet, looking back at everyone casually.

“Yo.” He greeted.

The room was eerily silent for a long moment before Gordon stood.

“Benry, get the _fuck_ out of my house.” He said sternly through gritted teeth.

“Awww, man, but we’re all hangin’ out, you want me to miss that?” Benry questioned in heavy disappointment.

“ _Yes!_ Get out!” Gordon shouted.

“I think you gotta calm down, bro.” Benry mumbled, pulling out a Gameboy and turning it on.

Gordon stomped towards Benry, flaming spoon still gripped firmly in his hand. “Benry, if you don’t get the fuck out of my house, I—”

“Mr. Freeman, hold on!” Tommy suddenly exclaimed, pulling away from Darnold’s hand and catching up to Gordon. He gave him a long, concerned look before turning to Benry. “Umm—do you wanna come to me and Darnold’s house?”

Benry shrugged, stuffing the Gameboy in his pocket and picking up his metal chair, squeaking obnoxiously as he pushed it closed. Darnold stood as well, casting an awkward glance at the rest of the Science Team as he prepared to leave with Tommy.

“Goodnight, Mr. Freeman.” Tommy said as he turned to follow Benry towards the front door.

Gordon frowned, a deeply conflicted look on his face. “...Night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your honor i wrote this well before the 3rd cast commentary came out (they have their moments [checks watch] Soon though don't worry)


	9. REPORT: Regarding the unexpected return of subject "Benry"

Benry was in his house.

After years of studying the strange hole in reality that Benry had resided in, years of hoping he would wake from his coma someday, and a video game world that made it impossible for him to question either of those things, Tommy finally had a chance to talk to Benry. As soon as he was done biting into uncooked instant ramen blocks.

“Umm, do you want that cooked?” Darnold offered hesitantly.

“Cooked?” Benry echoed before crunching loudly into it again.

Darnold didn’t reply.

Benry had gone out of his way to move one of the nice barstools Tommy and Darnold had picked out, sitting behind the bar section in their kitchen in his metal chair he’d set out again. The counter was too tall, giving Benry the effect of looking comically small as he peered over the countertop at Tommy and Darnold.

“So...where have you been all this time?” Tommy finally settled to ask him.

“Squatter’s rights, bro.” Benry replied.

“You were squatting this whole time?” Darnold questioned.

“Yeah, why didn’t you—uhh, well...” Tommy stopped, remembering the way Mr. Freeman had threatened Benry with a flaming spoon. Maybe squatting was the better alternative after all. “Never mind.”

Benry took another loud bite of his ramen block.

“Umm...Benry...” Tommy began, pausing when Benry took another bite, “can I ask you—uhh, about the Nihilanth project?”

Tommy noticed Darnold’s curious look as they waited for a response from Benry. After everything, Tommy had never even brought up the Nihilanth project with him—not intentionally, there was just so much else to discuss.

“Wha...?” Benry asked.

“The project that I was—where we met?” Tommy fumbled. “If you remember that at all, I—it’s kind of...a surprise to see you, actually.”

“I haven’t been gone _that_ long, man, I dunno...”

Tommy bit his lower lip in frustration. He didn’t blame Benry for being confused—he was more exhausted with his own inability to articulate what he was trying to say after so long. He took a moment to grab himself a soda from the fridge, cracking it open and taking a long sip as he got his thoughts together. Finally, he tried again.

“How far back do you remember?” Tommy asked.

“I dunno, man.”

“...Do you remember before, uhh, before the game started?”

“No.” Benry answered simply, crunching on the last of the ramen block. He got up from his chair, Sunkist eagerly approaching to eat the crumbs that fell from Benry’s lap to the floor as he tore open a new one and opened the microwave. Tommy and Darnold watched Benry microwave a completely raw block of noodles with no water, not even a bowl or a plate, for about a minute as smoke began to billow up inside.

“I think it’s done.” Darnold commented.

“Oh, damn.” Benry opened the microwave, releasing a small plume of smoke and taking out the block, burnt in several places.

“So...you don’t remember when we met? At all?” Tommy asked slowly.

“Yeah, we were, uhhh...” Benry put a finger to his chin. “We used to play on uhh, whaddya call ‘em. Like a ladder, but the other way.”

“...Huh?”

“The monkey bars?” Darnold filled in helpfully.

“Yeah, that. We used to play on those when we were kids.” Benry declared before taking a massive bite out of his block of burnt ramen. Sunkist, finished with the aftermath of the first one, trotted to Benry’s feet to await more crumbs. Benry continued talking with his mouth full. “We’d hide when recess ended so the teachers wouldn’t see us. Great shit.”

Tommy frowned deeply, tapping his fingers together. “...Benry, I don’t think that’s true.”

Benry shrugged.

“You were a—you were a guard in the Lambda lab.” Tommy began to explain. “Everyone called you ‘Ben’, not Benry. We used to, uhh, talk about video games. Then...you...disappeared. Dr. Coomer said, umm, apparently, you thought you saw something in the chamber. And—and—the Nihilanth, it was...if you went in, you were teleported around a bunch, but _you_ ended up staying—you were stuck in a void, and I pulled you out. You ended up in a coma, and the Nihilanth disappeared. I—I got transferred out of the Lambda lab, though, and I never saw you again until the game started.”

Benry nodded. “Okay.”

Tommy could only stare at Benry.

“Ummm...do you remember any of that, Benry?” Darnold asked on his behalf.

“Huh? No.”

Tommy let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah, I um, it makes sense that you don’t...that you don’t remember.” He said. “I just...well...I guess I don’t actually know all that much about you. Not _really._ ”

Benry’s usually deadpan expression turned heartbroken in an instant. “What? Man, but we’re best friends, right? I thought we were best friends.”

“We _are_ friends!” Tommy agreed quickly. “It’s just—I don’t know. I...why _did_ you attack us, Benry?”

“Huh?”

Tommy wasn’t sure how to make himself any clearer in that moment, so he remained silent.

Benry finished off his second block of ramen. “Yo, can I stay here tonight? I got kicked outta the house I was squatting in.”

“Uhhh—yeah, of course. But Benry—”

“Sick. I just gotta go get my stuff.”

Tommy reached out, taking Benry’s wrist to stop him as he started to leave. “Benry, could you wait a second, please?”

Benry turned back to look at Tommy expectantly.

“I just—you’re my friend, Benry, that’s not...” Tommy stopped, frowning as it grew more difficult to speak. “I just wanna understand. We don’t need to...have a big... _thing_ , I just wanna know _why_.”

Benry stared at Tommy for a long moment. “...Why I what?”

Tommy took a deep breath to steady himself. “Why you attacked us at the end.”

Benry threw his head back and let out a long groan. “I don’t know, man, what’s it matter? It was in the game, it’s not like you could’ve died or anything.”

Tommy pressed his lips into a thin line, his ability to speak officially obliterated by that. When he didn’t give a response, Benry shrugged and simply disappeared into thin air. Tommy sighed deeply, rubbing his face in his hands. Sunkist nudged her head against Tommy’s elbow comfortingly, and he relaxed a little as he knelt down and buried his face into her fur. Tommy looked to his side, watching Darnold sit down awkwardly cross-legged beside him.

“Umm—do you wanna be alone? Should I go?” Darnold asked suddenly.

Tommy smiled a little, shaking his head.

Darnold nodded. “Okay. Ummm...jeez. He’s hard to talk to, huh?”

Tommy shrugged. He turned over to lay on his back, head rested against Sunkist as he pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open to navigate to his text history with Darnold.  
  
**TOMMY:** im sure i probably just need another approach  
**TOMMY:** hes not the same as he used to be  
**TOMMY:** i wanna be patient w him b/c hes been thru a lot  
**TOMMY:** but  
**TOMMY:** im pretty upset about it all to be honest :(

Darnold flipped his phone open, reading over Tommy’s texts carefully.

“...Yeah, it seems like a whole complicated mess.” Darnold replied, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “I get that you wanna be patient with him, but I mean, you deserve to have the space to be upset, Tommy. Even if you couldn’t have died, it still sucks he did that.”  
  
**TOMMY:** but what if there was a reason?? :(  
**TOMMY:** i dont wanna make an ass of myself if there was a good reason

“Well, to be fair, _he’s_ kinda making an ass of himself already.” Darnold said flatly. “Also, I kinda find it hard to believe there’s some big intricate reason for him to do that. I find it pretty easy not to just attack my friends out of nowhere, personally.”

Tommy snickered a little.  
  
**TOMMY:** i get where ur coming from  
**TOMMY:** i still wanna hold out tho  
**TOMMY:** i feel like theres something were missing  
**TOMMY:** u know?

Darnold nodded. “Yeah, well, if that’s what you want, I support it. Just don’t overextend yourself or anything, alright?”

Tommy nodded as well.  
  
**TOMMY:** thanks darnold :)

****

“It’s just—I thought we were finally rid of him! I thought he’d fucked off forever, and then he just goes ahead and _shows up at my house,_ with absolutely no warning?! _Typical Benry._ ”

Dr. Coomer and Bubby sat together on Gordon’s couch, watching him pace back and forth in the living room.

“Well—” Dr. Coomer tried to start.

“At my _house!_ Where my _son_ lives! If he shows up while we’re out robbing banks or whatever, fine. I hate it, but _fine_ , it’s not like I can stop him, right? But he could at least have the decency to let me have just _one space_ that feels safe. Just one.” Gordon prattled on, waving his arms around furiously as he spoke.

“Gordon—” Bubby tried.

“I just want to feel like I can move on with my life! That’s all I want, I wanna forget about everything that happened with the resonance cascade! Everything could be perfect, I don’t have to worry about money anymore, I can just focus on raising Josh, but if he can just come into my house any time he fucking wants, I—”

“ _Gordon!_ ” Bubby snapped.

Gordon stopped, looking at Bubby with wide eyes. Bubby turned pointedly to Dr. Coomer, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Well, Gordon, I understand you’re upset. You have a right to be.” Dr. Coomer began, standing and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I believe you may need to sit down, though.”

“Huh? No, I’m fine.” Gordon said. It was only just now, though, as he finally stopped talking, that he noticed his heart was racing.

“Come along, Gordon, have a seat.” Dr. Coomer insisted. He practically dragged Gordon to the couch, sitting him down and plopping down beside him with a comforting arm over his shoulders. “I’m more than happy to listen if you need to vent your anger, but right now, you seem a little overwhelmed.”

“I’m not overwhelmed!” Gordon argued instinctively. “I love you guys, and I appreciate everything you’re trying to do, but I’m not _fragile._ ”

Dr. Coomer exchanged a look with Bubby before turning back to Gordon. “...If you need space, that’s alright. I just want you to know we’re here for you if you need.”

“Thank you, Dr. Coomer, I...” Gordon forced a deep breath, in and out. “I just need you to let me handle this shit on my own. Okay?”

Dr. Coomer nodded hesitantly. “...Should we go?”

“Uhhh...” Gordon leaned forward, propping his elbows up on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “Y-yeah. I need some quiet. I-it’s not anything against you, I promise, it’s just...yeah.”

Gordon felt the couch shifting as Dr. Coomer and Bubby stood. He felt Dr. Coomer squeezing his shoulder for a moment as Bubby’s footsteps grew distant.

“You can call me any time you need me, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer said gently.

Gordon nodded. “I know. Thanks, Dr. Coomer.”

Dr. Coomer followed Bubby out of the house. Gordon dragged himself to his feet, heading up the stairs with light footsteps. He nudged Joshua’s door open just a little, relaxing as always at the sight of his son sleeping soundly, despite all the ruckus just a few minutes before. Then, he headed to his own bedroom with his freshly built bed, most of his belongings still in boxes. Leaving the hall light on and his door slightly ajar to let the light stream into his room, Gordon flopped down into his bed.

He didn’t get much sleep. How could he? Every sound outside jolted him awake, making him deeply miss the weight of a heavy shotgun in his hands. It was a comforting weight, reassuring that he wasn’t defenseless against anything that tried to get the jump on him. At the very least, with the excuse of building furniture, Gordon now had a heavy hammer to keep by his bedside table that he could reach for in his moments of panic. He held it now, close to his chest, after he’d been woken by the sound of someone talking on their phone outside.

Gordon forced out a deep breath, setting it back on the bedside table with a gentle _clunk._ If his friends saw him like this, they’d double down on their attempts to help, he was sure—and he wasn’t stupid, he _knew_ this wasn’t normal. Above everything else, though, it was _embarrassing._ He’d been the guy who led them to a safe place, he should know better than anyone else that it was all going to be okay; and he knew it logically, but he couldn’t stop the kneejerk, gut fear reactions. And if he wasn’t alone in this, surely his friends already had enough on their plates. He couldn’t ask them to divert their energy into reassuring him it was going to be okay. This was something he was going to have to handle on his own.

For their sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gordon your coping mechanisms ):


	10. REPORT: Regarding subject "Benry"'s contact with employer's observations for [REDACTED]

Benry awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar room.

That was fine, of course. He’d wake up somewhere unfamiliar all the time—not even literally, sometimes, but it would  _ feel _ that way mid-action, mid-conversation, mid-whatever; it felt like he just sort of popped in and out of existence at random sometimes. But he was used to it. Benry slowly sat up. There was a thick blanket draped over him, and his head had been rested on a pillow—more comfort than he’d gotten accustomed to, at least. He dragged himself up to his feet, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Not that he really  _ needed _ sleep, as far as he could tell, but it most certainly was an easy way to pass the time during the boring hours everyone else was asleep. Benry yawned loudly, scooping up his Gameboy off the floor and heading out of the room.

Tommy was here, currently stood over the stove. Benry plopped down into his metal chair that he must have left there, enjoying the cool feeling that seeped through his pants. “Sup, Tommy.”

Tommy jumped, letting out a yelp as he turned around to look at Benry. With a sigh, he curled his lips upward just a little bit. “Oh, hi, Benry.”

“Whatchya making?” Benry asked.

“Egg sandwich.” Tommy replied, turning back to the stove. “Do you want one?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Benry played his game as he waited, enjoying the sound of Tommy cooking. Eventually, Tommy set a plate out in front of Benry. It was, based on Benry’s combined understanding of eggs and sandwiches, indeed an egg sandwich—an egg, between two slices of bread, and some other shit Benry didn’t care to analyze. He set the Gameboy aside and picked up the sandwich to cram a massive portion of it into his mouth to get the eating experience over with. He stopped, though, slowing down a little to take in the flavor.

“Holy shit, bro.” Benry struggled to say with his mouth full.

Tommy looked back at Benry, lips curled upward again. “Do you like it?”

Benry nodded. Tommy turned back to the pan, and Benry took his time finishing the sandwich before wiping his hands off on his hoodie and picking up the Gameboy again. Tommy eventually sat down beside Benry, much taller sitting on the barstool as he ate his breakfast quietly.

Benry felt comfortable. Sat in a quiet room, having just enjoyed good food, playing on his Gameboy beside one of his best friends—it was good, he thought. He liked this.

“Benry?” Tommy said.

“Hm?”

“What do you want—um, what do you plan on doing, now that we’re out of Black Mesa?” He asked, looking down at Benry.

Benry shrugged. “I dunno. There’s some games I’ve been wanting to play for a while...”

“I mean, um, long-term.”

Benry didn’t have an answer for that. He craned his neck behind him, to the right so he could look out the back door. “Bro, it’s so  _ bright _ outside.”

Tommy didn’t reply to that. Benry stood up, folding up his metal chair and tucking it under his arm.

“I’m gonna go to Gordon’s house.” He announced, carefully slipping his Gameboy into his hoodie pocket.

“Benry, don’t—I  _ really  _ don’t think that’s a good idea.” Tommy said, reaching out and grabbing Benry’s hood as he tried to walk away. “Don’t you remember last night?”

“Huh?”

Tommy’s expression changed. Not that Benry could really read it; Tommy and the humans seemed to put so much stake into the tiniest changes on their face—just raising a single eyebrow could mean the world to them, and Benry would just be left in the dark, struggling to catch up.

“Mr. Freeman is going through, ummmm, a t—a tough time right now.” Tommy said, looking somewhere else. “I think you should give him a little more time before...uhhh, before you go see him again.”

“Ugh. Fiiiiine.” Benry groaned, setting his chair down right where he had been standing and sitting back down. “You got video games?”

Tommy shook his head slowly. “No, I, umm...I haven’t had the time to replace anything I—any of the games I used to have.”

“Yo, we should go get some.” Benry suggested. “We could go to the Gamestop, get you a Playstation.”

Tommy made a sound that Benry was pretty sure meant he liked the idea. “...Yeah, okay. Umm, let me just get dressed, and—and we can see if Darnold wants to come.”

Benry waited for Tommy and Darnold in the living room. Benry found it hard to believe “getting dressed” was the only step in their process, considering how long they took to head back downstairs—Benry could usually change clothes within a minute, and they spent  _ twenty _ minutes on whatever process they had going on. Darnold insisted on pausing to pour himself a thermos of coffee before they finally piled into Tommy’s brand new car. Benry lounged in the backseat, listening to Tommy’s music—he called it “happy hardcore”—and watching the clouds and telephone poles race past him.

This was pretty good too, Benry thought. He couldn’t shake a feeling like he had missed this. He wasn’t sure what that feeling implied, but that wasn’t an abnormal thing for him—for all the feelings that always insisted on popping up inside of him, he only really understood them about 30% of the time.

Eventually, the car came to a stop, and Tommy and Darnold began to climb out. Benry dragged himself out as well, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he followed the two inside a mall. It was crowded—more people than Benry was used to seeing, generally. The way there were really wide halls with shops set up to the sides brought up some distant feeling inside him. It wasn’t a feeling he liked, but he pushed onward, reaching out to grab Tommy’s forearm. Tommy didn’t pull away, at least, allowing Benry to close his eyes and just let Tommy drag him along to their destination.

Tommy and Darnold were talking. They seemed comfortable with each other, based on how much talking they did. That was cool. He didn’t really process anything they were saying, but their tone was nice to focus on as opposed to the other sounds of the mall.

Finally, Tommy stopped, and Benry opened his eyes, finding them inside the Gamestop. He stepped further inside eagerly, looking through the shelves for a long time to pick out games that grabbed his interest. By the time he was done, Tommy was already holding a Playstation box under his arm, watching Benry. Benry took his stack of games to the counter, throwing down some random amount of cash and coins on the counter and letting the cashier figure it out. Once that interaction was socially deemed to be over, Benry followed Tommy and Darnold out of the Gamestop.

They didn’t go back to the car, though. Benry followed the two through a few more stores in the mall, buying  _ more _ things that Benry didn’t really pay attention to.  _ And _ they stopped at the food court—which Benry grew less annoyed by once Tommy had placed a smoothie in front of him. As Tommy and Darnold talked some more over their food, Benry glanced around at the crowd of other people. It was still strange, but Benry felt like he was adjusting to it, at least. He stopped, though, when he saw a familiar man in a suit stood by a table on the other end of the food court. Darnold and Tommy were wrapping up already, standing to put their trays away as Benry stood to approach the man.

“Hey.” Benry greeted.

The man looked at Benry with a strange expression, adjusting his tie and looking back up towards Tommy. “...Hello, Benry.”

“Whatchya doin’?” Benry asked him.

“I could ask you the same thing.” The man replied. “I really am, quite...busy, Benry. If you wouldn’t mind, I am trying to, keep an eye on everyone.”

“Why?”

The man let out a breath, adjusting his tie again. “It is business that does not, concern, you. Now—I believe Tommy is looking for you. You wouldn’t want to, keep him waiting, hmm?”

Benry glanced back to where he’d left Tommy. Tommy was indeed looking around the food court, searching for Benry.

“One more thing, Benry, before you go.” The man said as Benry turned to leave.

“Hm?”

“The time you all...have left in this world as it is, is meant to be enjoyed.” The man said, looking back up at Tommy. After a moment, he looked back down to Benry with cold blue eyes. “If I determine anything to be, unsafe, for my progeny...then I will be forced to take rather...drastic measures. Do not force my hand, Benry.”

Benry didn’t process a good portion of that, as a baby had begun screaming on the other end of the food court, and that was grabbing at his attention much more. Benry just nodded.

“Sure, man.” He mumbled before turning and heading back to Tommy.

As Benry approached the table, he and Tommy finally locked eyes, and Tommy gave him a look that Benry was pretty sure was supposed to be friendly.

“Hi, Benry.” Tommy greeted. “Where’d you go?”

“Huh?”

“You disappeared for a minute.” Darnold filled in.

“Oh, yeah, I was talkin’ to uhhh...” Benry paused. He didn’t know the guy’s name. Was he supposed to? Ehh, he’d just wing it, he thought. “G-...Gary man.”

“Gary man?” Tommy echoed.

“Yeah. That guy.”

There was a sound.

It was loud, drilling into Benry’s ears like it was trying to tear into his skull.

It was familiar—not exactly the same, but familiar enough that it made a pressure build up inside of Benry.

Benry bared his teeth, searching for the source of the sound.

It came from everywhere, pressing down on him, pushing him to the floor.

Colors shifted around him, indistinct forms closing in, surrounding him, trapping him.

Benry forced himself back up to his feet.

Benry let out a sound of his own, relaxing a little when the figures moved back, giving him space.

The sound was relentless, clawing deep inside his head.

Benry began moving, growling when he collided with things he couldn’t quite see.

Then, finally, the sound stopped.

****

“Jesus, that’s so loud!” Darnold shouted over the fire alarm, hands pressed to his ears.

Tommy nodded, quickly scooping up their bags. Other people had already begun shuffling out, covering their faces as thin plumes of smoke billowed from one of the restaurants. Checking to make sure he had everything, Tommy glanced around the table, finding Benry on the floor.

“Benry!” Tommy called. “Come on, it’ll be quieter outside!”

Benry didn’t respond. His palms were pressed to the sides of his head, entire body shaking violently.

“You guys have to get out! C’mon!” A security guard called out.

Tommy ignored him, kneeling down to Benry. His eyes were wide open, looking frantically around him as he breathed hard.

“Benry, come on.” Tommy said, as quietly as he could without being drowned out by the fire alarm.

A few security guards were already approaching, one ushering Darnold towards the door as two others knelt down, reaching out towards Benry. Benry looked at them, eyes unfocused, and scrambled to his feet. He tried to take a step back, only to collide with a table behind him. He clawed at the table with one hand, baring his teeth at the security guards who tried to reach out to him again and roaring, almost just as loud as the alarm that echoed through the mall. Everyone took a step back, and his muscles relaxed just a little bit as he kept looking around him. He stumbled forward a couple steps, colliding harshly with more tables as he moved in the wrong direction.

“Benry!” Tommy called out. The sound was getting to him as well—he needed even just a second of quiet.

Tommy took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the overwhelming sounds of the alarm grip him before he finally felt that familiar  _ click _ in his head. To his relief, the whole world stopped around him except Benry, giving them both a silent respite from the alarm.

“Benry, come on.” Tommy said gently, approaching Benry to place a hand on his shoulder.

Benry whirled around, fingers hooked into claws as he looked at Tommy. Tommy backed off a little.

“I—I stopped time, I think, so...it’s okay.” Tommy went on, pulling up one of the chairs and sitting down. “We can just...take a second.”

Benry finally relaxed some more, dropping back down to the floor. He reached behind him to pull his hood over his head, pulling on the strings to close it over his face and laying down on his side. Tommy waited for a little while, struggling to maintain the timestop until Benry sang out a few purple orbs at him.

“Ready to go?” Tommy asked.

Benry nodded.

Tommy helped guide Benry to his feet. Benry didn’t seem ready to speak, but he sang out a few orbs of sweet voice in thanks, giving Tommy a quick kiss on the cheek before they shuffled around tables to leave the building. Tommy left Benry beside the frozen form of Darnold, who was staring worriedly through the windows of the food court. Tommy smiled softly at him before hurrying back into the building to grab their bags. Once Tommy was sure they had everything and he was back outside with his friends, he let out a breath, and time resumed around them.

“Whoa!” Darnold exclaimed, taking a shocked step back from Tommy and Benry. He wheezed a little, clutching his chest and doubling over. “Jesus, when did you guys get out here?”

“Just now.” Tommy answered. “I umm, I stopped time for a second.”

“You  _ what? _ ”

“Oh! Yeah, I can do that.” Tommy explained hastily. “I guess I accidentally th—uhh, threatened Dr. Breen with it a couple times, before I knew what I was doing.”

“Hoo, boy.” Darnold breathed out as he collected himself. “You really are an alien, huh? Not that I doubted you, just...y’know.”

Tommy snickered a little at Darnold, then turned to Benry. He was shielding his eyes from the sun with his hoodie, grumbling something under his breath.

“You okay?” Tommy asked him.

Benry nodded.

“Alright. Let’s, uhh, let’s go home.”

As the three turned to circle around the outside of the mall, Tommy’s father stood just around the corner, watching with some relief as they headed peacefully to their car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember going to the mall?? god i wanna go to the mall. the last time i went to the mall it was when i went to see the sonic the hedgehog movie in theaters which feels like years ago at this point. so much of this portion of the fic is just me living vicariously thru these characters being able to go outside and not having to be touch starved and that's why it's so long ):


	11. REPORT: Regarding the "Science Team" and co.'s dinner party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: a little bit of child distress in this one, but it doesn't go ignored!

Harold had just gotten a cell phone recently. It hadn’t come into particular use just yet, but he did like the idea that he was reachable at all times now, if needed; it just turned out that the time he was needed was at 3 in the morning.

Harold was startled awake by his cell phone, vibrating against the nightstand and chiming several times. Bubby jolted up in bed, breathing hard and gripping the blankets tightly in his hands as he looked for the source of the sound deliriously.

“It’s just my cell phone, my dear.” Harold comforted.

Bubby relaxed, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning. “Jesus Christ. Who the fuck is calling you?”

Harold picked up his phone, looking at the little tiny screen on the front cover. “...It’s not a call, it’s several text messages from Gordon.”

“Tell Gordon not to fucking text you at 3am.” Bubby grumbled, laying back down and rolling himself up in their blanket.

Harold leaned back against his pillow, flipping his phone open to read through the messages with one hand and placing the other on Bubby’s shoulder. Bubby grumbled something incomprehensible, reaching up to hold Harold’s hand while he drifted off back to sleep.  
  
**GORDON:** dr coomer  
**GORDON:** soldiers are in my house  
**GORDON:** im in the basement with josh but i dont have much time  
**GORDON:** dr coomer pls wake up i cant call you or theyll hear me down here  
**GORDON:** i dont know what to do i dont have anything to fight them with i cant protect josh like this

Harold gripped Bubby’s hand, shaking him back awake. “Bubby! Gordon’s in trouble!”

“Huh? What?” Bubby asked sleepily, sitting up again and reaching for his glasses. “What the fuck kind of trouble did he get into at this time of night?”

Harold shuffled through their closet, pulling out the brass knuckles he’d managed to salvage from their bank robberies. “He said there’s soldiers in his house. We’d better be ready for a fight.”

“ _Soldiers?_ Why are there fucking soldiers in Gordon’s house?” Bubby asked, standing up as well. “Did Gordon break the contract or something?”

“No time to question it! Let’s go.” Harold said hastily, hurrying out of their shared bedroom and down the stairs. He could hear Bubby behind him as he burst out the front door, sprinting across the street to Gordon’s house. He’d expected to see his door busted down, but it stood firmly in its place. Harold tried the handle, finding it locked. Perhaps they’d broken in through the back, Harold thought as he turned to circle around the house.

The back door was locked as well, and completely intact, Harold found. Strange—he didn’t see any soldiers in the house through the glass, either.

“What the fuck?” Bubby whispered, trying the door as well.

“Perhaps they locked the doors when they entered.” Harold whispered back thoughtfully. “I’ll go grab my keys.”

Harold sprinted back to his house, scooping up his keys from the kitchen counter and hurrying back. He had a good number of keys—for his own house, for his car, and for the houses of his friends that they’d given to him, including Gordon’s. Bubby stood waiting for him at the front door, and Harold hastily unlocked it, throwing it open and readying himself for a fight.

Nobody was there.

Harold and Bubby exchanged a look. Bubby nodded towards the stairs up to the bedrooms, hefting up his metal baseball bat. Harold nodded, and Bubby was on his way up as Harold headed downstairs. He’d expected to see soldiers tearing the place apart looking for Gordon, but there was nobody; all the lights were off, and the only sign of life was the mess Gordon and Joshua were apparently living in these days. Harold filed that thought away for later, heading down to the basement and opening the door.

Harold was confronted with Gordon, a hammer raised above his head, ready to strike. Gordon stopped, terrified expression falling to deep relief as he dropped the hammer to his side.

“Dr. Coomer!” He whispered, closing the door behind him. “Did you see the soldiers?”

Harold shook his head. “No, though I didn’t check upstairs. Bubby’s up there now.”

The two pointedly paused to listen. They heard floorboards creaking, and Harold recognized the footsteps of Bubby instantly as he began heading down the steps—he always had a particular rhythm when he headed down a staircase in a rush—and sure enough, Bubby joined them in the basement.

“Gordon, what the fuck? There’s nobody here.” Bubby said accusingly.

“Shhhh!” Gordon hushed, closing the door behind them again. “They’re here. I _know_ they’re here, I fucking heard them!”

“I just searched your whole house for you, and didn’t see anybody.” Bubby went on in his normal loud tone.

“Keep your fucking voice down!” Gordon whisper-yelled, holding up his hammer again. “Maybe they left when they heard you coming. They’re gonna come back, and we’re gonna be like fish in a fucking barrel.”

Harold frowned as Bubby and Gordon went back and forth, glancing over the room for Joshua. Gordon must have hidden him somewhere, he thought as he stepped further into the room to look. Finally, he opened the door to the little laundry room, finding Joshua curled up in the corner and peeking over a blanket. He looked terrified, immediately standing to run to Harold and hug him tightly.

“It’s alright, Joshua.” Harold reassured him quietly. He scooped him up in his arms, pausing in the laundry room to think.

It seemed highly unlikely that, after shelling out hundreds of thousands of dollars to buy the Science Team’s silence, they would start trying to pick them off like this. Harold let out a deep sigh, patting Joshua’s back comfortingly as he listened to Bubby and Gordon talk.

“You have to believe me! I _swear_ I heard them!” Gordon pleaded, still whisper-yelling.

“Well, they’re not here _now._ ” Bubby argued. “Are you sure you didn’t have some kind of nightmare?”

“I could hear them while I was down here!” Gordon insisted. “If they—”

Gordon’s panicked whispering suddenly became a loud, surprised scream. Harold peeked his head out of the laundry room, watching Gordon clutch his chest as he pressed his back against the wall, staring at Tommy who stood there with a handgun.

“I got your texts, Mr. Freeman.” He announced, looking around. “I didn’t see anybody here, though. I triple checked.”

Harold emerged fully from the laundry room, still carrying Joshua, who clung to Harold’s shirt tightly. Gordon slid down along the wall until he was sitting down, still gripping his hammer tightly in his hand as he caught his breath.

“I’m not fucking making this up, guys. I heard them.” Gordon said, his voice much more broken now than it was before.

“Of course, Gordon, I don’t believe you would make something like this up.” Harold said reassuringly, kneeling down to sit beside Gordon. “Perhaps you should get some rest. You seem tired.”

Gordon looked to Harold, eyes sunken and exhausted. He bit his lip, setting his hammer aside so he could reach out for Joshua. Harold passed him over, patting Gordon’s shoulder comfortingly as Gordon hugged Joshua close.

“I’m sorry, bud. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Gordon murmured to Joshua.

“How much have you slept recently?” Bubby asked.

Gordon sighed. “...Not much.”

“Why don’t you two come sleep at our house?” Harold suggested. “We have our guest rooms made up very nicely, I’m sure you two will be comfortable.”

Gordon rubbed at his eyes, mumbling something Harold didn’t quite hear to himself before nodding. “...That would be really nice, Dr. Coomer. I’m...I’m really sorry, guys.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Freeman.” Tommy replied.

“It’s perfectly fine, Gordon. I don’t blame you whatsoever.” Harold added. “Now, let’s head on over and get some sleep.”

Harold led the pack out of the basement, pausing at the top of the staircase as Bubby and Tommy followed close behind. Gordon stood at the doorway, still clutching Joshua in his arms, staring hesitantly back up at the group.

“It’s alright, Gordon, there’s nobody up here.” Harold coaxed.

Gordon took a deep breath, then began heading up the stairs, deliberately avoiding creaky floorboards. Harold stuck close to Gordon’s side as they headed across the street, Tommy parting ways to go back to his own place. Gordon jumped at the sound of their night owl neighbors laughing in their house beside Harold’s and Bubby’s, but soon, they were back in the safety of Harold’s home, and Gordon visibly relaxed a little.

“Do you want your own room?” Gordon asked Joshua as Harold led them up the stairs.

Joshua shook his head, clinging a little closer to Gordon. Gordon nodded, and Harold took them to the guest room closest to his and Bubby’s bedroom.

“You two feel free to call me if you need me for anything.” Harold said as Gordon and Joshua began settling into the large bed.

“Okay.” Gordon sighed. “...Thank you, guys. I’m—seriously, I’m _really_ sorry about all this. I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s fine, Gordon, whatever.” Bubby said dismissively as he continued down the hall to get back to bed.

“Yes, Gordon, it’s completely okay.” Harold said reassuringly. “You two get some rest. I love you.”

“Love you too, Coomer. Thanks.” Gordon murmured. “Say ‘goodnight’, Josh.”

“Goodnight.” Joshua’s tiny voice said.

“Goodnight, Joshua. I love you very much.” Harold replied with a smile.

Harold turned off the light, closing the door gently behind him before returning to his own room. Bubby was already in bed, curled up with most of the blanket—which was usually fine, Harold tended to radiate heat a lot more than Bubby did. Harold climbed back into bed with a deep sigh.

“I’m quite worried about him.” Harold muttered.

“...Yeah.” Bubby replied quietly, rolling over to face Harold. “Did you see his house? It was a mess.”

Harold nodded. “I don’t want to judge too harshly, a little mess is to be expected raising a child, but...”

“ _Yeah_ , but it looked pretty bad in there. You should’ve seen upstairs.” Bubby grumbled. “Seems like he’s in a pretty bad way.”

“Perhaps we should keep a closer eye on him.” Harold suggested.

“Yeah. Seems like it.”

As Harold and Bubby settled in to get back to sleep, Harold noticed floorboards creaking out in the hall, just outside Gordon’s room. The hall light flicked on, then the footsteps returned to the room. Harold never heard the door close.

****

Darnold had forgotten how nice it was to live with someone else—of course, the only person he’d ever lived with in his life was his mom—but Tommy was a good roommate. The feelings he had for him that were _definitely_ a crush aside, he was a cool person to hang out with, and their living habits merged pretty well, all things considered. Having Benry around threw a wrench into things, though; Darnold had to appreciate Tommy’s determination with Benry, at least, but that was about the only thing he felt he could appreciate out of the situation.

It wasn’t bad enough that he’d want to go out of his way to kick him out, though. He was just...sort of annoying, but that was it. He could deal with annoying if he had to.

Darnold was sitting in his computer chair, currently doing his best to maintain his focus on a TF2 match as Benry leaned against the back of his chair, practically breathing into his ear. When Darnold finally had a moment after getting sniped, he quickly turned to Benry.

“Umm, could you back off just a little?” He asked.

Benry moved off the back of Darnold’s chair, pulling up that metal chair he usually carried around and setting it out to sit beside Darnold and watch him play. Darnold turned back to the screen, ignoring him. Benry clearly knew just as much about the game as Darnold did, but he really seemed to be less interested in playing it than he was into just watching Darnold play—they ended up spending a lot of time together like this, Benry in Darnold’s bubble, watching him in relative silence.

“Hey, Darnold.” Benry suddenly said.

“Yeah?” Darnold asked, nudging one ear of his headset off to hear Benry better.

“What’s it like being one of the only humans in the group?”

Darnold let himself die in the game so he could look at Benry in surprise. “Wh—huh? I’m not one of the _only_ humans, am I?”

“Yeah, man. Me, Tommy, and Bubby aren’t human. Dr. Coomer’s human, but he’s got all those uhhh, all those...robots added to him.” Benry explained. “And like, Gordon’s the player, so...y’know. You’re like, completely normie.”

“Uhhhh...” Darnold rested his chin in his hand. “I guess that’s pretty weird. I didn’t really...but—hang on, what makes Gordon so different _now_ , then?”

Benry didn’t reply to that. He stared at Darnold for an awkwardly long moment before he jumped in surprise at the sound of the doorbell ringing, looking at the doorway of Darnold’s bedroom. Darnold stood, pausing as he saw Tommy already crossing the hallway to get it. Darnold eased back down into his chair, pulling his headset off fully to hear the conversation at the door. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but he could tell it was Dr. Coomer—he had a fairly distinctive voice. Eventually, he heard the stairs creaking before Tommy poked his head into Darnold’s room.

“Hey, Dr. Coomer invited us over for dinner.” Tommy said. “Do you wanna come?”

Darnold left the game, leaving his headset behind on his desk. “Yeah, sure.”

Benry stood as well, and once they were ready, the group headed across the street to Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s house. Darnold brought along a box of potions he’d mixed together in his newfound spare time, contained neatly in some nice glass bottles while Tommy brought a bag of chips and some salsa, and Benry brought another unwrapped block of ramen. Tommy knocked on the door politely, greeted almost immediately by Dr. Coomer.

“It’s so good to see all of you!” Dr. Coomer said with a friendly smile, reaching down to pat Sunkist’s head. “Come in! I made chili, and Bubby baked a wonderful loaf of bread!”

Dr. Coomer stepped aside, allowing the group to enter. Darnold paused when he saw a couple familiar faces already sat at the table, one of which immediately turned sour at the sight of Benry. Darnold had to resist an exhausted sigh. So this was one of _those_ dinners, he thought to himself; Dr. Coomer and Bubby had some sort of agenda to get Gordon and Benry in the same room. He was going to have to emotionally prepare himself for a lot of yelling, he thought.

“Hey, Benry.” Gordon greeted through gritted teeth as Bubby deposited a heavily burnt loaf of bread on the table.

“Yo.” Benry replied casually.

Gordon slumped down in his seat a little, glaring at Benry as he scooped up Joshua from the seat next to him to sit him down in his lap. As Joshua began struggling, he suddenly froze, eerily still in his spot as Darnold felt a pressure closing in on him. Darnold’s eyes widened, looking around. Everyone else was completely still as well—except for Tommy, who leaned in close to Darnold to whisper to him conspiratorially. “You sit next to Gordon, okay?”

“Did you just stop time?” Darnold asked in awe.

Tommy nodded.

Darnold reached over to Benry’s hat, lifting one of the flaps that sat over his ear and pulling away. It stayed exactly like that, just waiting to fall once time resumed.

“That’s incredible.” Darnold murmured.

“I’ll sit next to you there, and—uhh, and Benry will sit there. That’ll be, like, a buffer.” Tommy went on, pointing out the seats strategically.

Darnold nodded. “Alright.”

Still frozen in time, Tommy urged Darnold to take his seat, and Tommy sat down beside him as planned, releasing the timestop once they were settled. Everything returned to normal, and the group looked at Darnold and Tommy in surprise once they noticed the change—Benry’s eyes widening when his hat flopped back down to its normal position.

“Jesus, Tommy, do you _have_ to do that?” Gordon questioned.

“Benry, come sit here.” Tommy called. Benry complied, plopping down beside Tommy.

“So what’s up, man?” Benry asked, leaning on the table to get a good look at Gordon. “Whatcha been up to?”

“I’ve been taking care of my son.” Gordon said bitterly.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Your lil’ uhhh, lil’ noob baby.” Benry said, suddenly looking down to Joshua. “What’s—”

“Don’t talk to my son.” Gordon growled, tightening his grip around Joshua.

Joshua looked uneasy, clinging to Gordon’s shirt. Darnold frowned down at him, exchanging a brief glance with Tommy. Complex feelings about this arrangement aside—he wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to force Gordon in the same room with Benry like this, but hey, maybe Dr. Coomer and Bubby knew what they were doing—he felt bad for the kid, getting caught in the crosshairs of something his dad was clearly struggling with.

“Umm, say, Gordon.” Darnold interrupted as Bubby began attempting to slice his burnt bread. “I just ate recently, I’m not all that hungry. Why don’t you let me hold Josh so you can eat?”

It was a blatant lie, his mouth was watering at the smell of Dr. Coomer’s chili, but he was more concerned about Joshua picking up on Gordon’s stress. Gordon shook his head, though, holding Joshua defensively.

“No, it’s fine, I do this all the time.” Gordon replied, his tone suddenly casual.

“...Alright.” Darnold murmured uncomfortably.

“I _am_ also quite curious what you’ve been up to, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer chimed in as he entered the dining room with a pot of chili. “It’s been a little while since we’ve all been in the same room, hasn’t it?”

It _had_ been a little while, actually, Darnold realized with a start. Maybe a month? It was sort of hard to tell, when Darnold had so little structure in his life now.

“Uhh, you know. Not much.” Gordon replied, some of the venom seeping out of his tone as Dr. Coomer served him a bowl of chili. Bubby was now practically attacking the bread loaf with the knife, struggling to get it into manageable slices. “I’ve been getting ready to start homeschooling Josh, actually, now that I don’t actually have to work anymore. Except, y’know, maybe I _should_ work a little to be sure I have a good amount of money set aside for his college fund? I dunno. I’m still working it out.”

“Bro, I think he’s like, at _least_ five years too young for college.” Benry commented.

Gordon turned back to Benry with a cold look.

Joshua started to say something to Darnold, grabbing his shirt in his little fist eagerly to get his attention. Darnold smiled down at him and nodded, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“He’s asking if you like Kiko.” Gordon translated helpfully.

“Oh! Umm, what’s Kiko?” Darnold asked Joshua.

Joshua began talking, something about Neopets? And he just nodded encouragingly as Dr. Coomer served the chili for everyone.

“Do you need help with the bread, dear?” Dr. Coomer asked Bubby.

Bubby hissed in frustration, slamming the bread down on the table and placing two fingers to his temple. The bread immediately burst into flames. Darnold would’ve been a little more surprised, if he didn’t work with a Bubby prototype briefly who had the same tendency to do this. Everyone stared at the bread for a long moment wordlessly.

“Yooo, the bread.” Benry muttered sadly.

Dr. Coomer turned towards the kitchen. His arms extended over the counter, retrieving a towel to place over the bread to suffocate the fire calmly. “That’s alright!” He said cheerily, picking up the sad remains of the loaf. “I bought a nice sourdough for tomorrow’s dinner, we can have that tonight.”

“Wait!” Benry exclaimed, holding out his hands.

Dr. Coomer placed the charred loaf into Benry’s hands, and he immediately began gnawing on it.

As Darnold sat there, watching the group fall into a familiar rhythm with each other, his earlier conversation with Benry came back to mind. It wasn’t just how they all had such...exciting backstories, to put it crudely, but they all _knew_ each other. Darnold had only been a part of their lives for, what, 20 minutes at most, before showing up again after the game? What place did _he_ have in this group, after they’d all been through hell together? Maybe he should have gone with them after all, he thought as he stirred his chili in his bowl.

No, he asserted to himself. He had avoided something massively traumatic by not going with them. It was better this way.

Then again, had he just ignored an opportunity to be involved with something greater than himself, merely because it was scary?

“Hey, are you alright, man?” Gordon asked quietly.

Darnold looked up at Gordon in surprise. Joshua was already munching on a piece of sourdough bread, Dr. Coomer swiftly slicing more for the group while Gordon stirred his share of chili in his bowl.

“Uhh, yeah, I’m good.” Darnold said hurriedly. “Thanks, though.”

“Alright. Just checking.”

Darnold listened to Bubby and Benry go back and forth about something he didn’t quite understand; it kind of just sounded like they were saying word salad at each other with full confidence, or maybe Darnold’s ability to keep up with normal conversations was quickly draining out of him. Seeing he wasn’t going to get anything out of this conversation, Darnold turned back to Gordon.

“Umm, to be honest, if it’s not out of line for me to say...I’m a little more concerned about you.” Darnold whispered.

Gordon frowned deeply. “Yeah, I’m fine, dude. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You sure?”

Gordon nodded. “Yeah. It’s good. Gordon's all normal.”

He didn’t _seem_ good. He looked exhausted; like he’d thrown on some nice clothes, but didn’t even have the energy to put any real effort into it. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was half-brushed, and there were deep bags underneath his eyes—he looked like he was gonna pass out at the table at any minute. Was Darnold really in a position to push it, though?

“It’s...kinda weird, right?” Darnold asked instead, nodding to the others around the table. “While I was trying to get out of Black Mesa, I kept thinking I was gonna return to something _normal._ But pretty much nothing here is really all that normal.”

Gordon laughed exhaustedly. “Yeah. I had sort of a hard time picturing all of ‘em in, like, a domestic setting like this, but...I guess it sure is happening, huh?”

Darnold nodded, looking as subtly as he could manage to Tommy.

“Hey, can I ask you something, Darnold?” Gordon asked.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“Do you, like...remember anything from before the resonance cascade?” Gordon questioned carefully. “Like, y’know, _specific_ things. Particular memories.”

Darnold paused in a moment of confusion before nodding. “...Yeah, I remember lots of things.”

Gordon got a conflicted look on his face before returning to his food wordlessly.

“Do you not?” Darnold pressed.

“Y-yeah, of course I do.” Gordon said dismissively. “I mean, I remember Josh and all, don’t I?”

Darnold stared at Gordon for a long few seconds before letting it go. “...Yeah, that makes sense.”

Dinner proceeded quietly after that for a while. Darnold had eaten more than his fair share of chili and shared the potions with everyone—Gordon pointedly declined, to Darnold’s deep disappointment—and he was finally starting to feel a little more relaxed before Dr. Coomer spoke with a more serious tone.

“Now...I was hoping we could all talk about the resonance cascade.” He announced to everyone.

Everyone was quiet.

“The rules of that world were most certainly different from the one we currently occupy.” Dr. Coomer went on, twirling his hair between his fingers. “So, I hope everyone recognizes that I ask this with absolutely no judgment whatsoever. However, I do believe we’ve all been quite curious, Benry...what happened at the end.”

Benry’s muscles tensed immediately, and he tilted his head downwards, casting a shadow over his eyes as he stared at his mostly eaten chunk of burnt bread.

“I’m sorry, Benry, I’m only asking to understand.” Dr. Coomer said gently.

“I don’t know, man!” Benry growled. “Why does it even matter? It was in a _game_ , it doesn’t make a difference.”

“Of course it makes a fucking difference!” Gordon snapped.

“Gordon, you’re not helping, can you stop?” Bubby said flatly.

“What, so I’m not even allowed to be angry about it?!” Gordon demanded. “Of course _you_ wouldn’t want me to think too hard about everything that happened, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bubby questioned defensively.

“You know what it means!” Gordon held up his prosthetic for Bubby to see.

“Oh, dear. Gordon, we’re not trying to—” Dr. Coomer tried to start again, immediately interrupted by Gordon.

“So _you_ just try to kill us, disappear, and then show up again and expect me to think that’s fine?” Gordon asked, turning to look back to Benry. “We could’ve died! You were _actively trying to kill us!_ So excuse me if I don’t want you in my life, anymore!”

Benry made several mocking, babbling noises back at Gordon, and Darnold could practically feel the hatred radiating off of Gordon.

“You guys—” Tommy tried.

“We’re trying to _help_ , Gordon! If you would just take a second and _listen_ , we could settle this!” Bubby shouted over Gordon’s next string of insults.

“Bubby, dear, you’re exacerbating things quite badly yourself.” Dr. Coomer said sternly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Gordon—”

“I can’t fucking _believe_ you guys don’t care!” Gordon continued, heedless of anyone else. “He tried to kill us! Of course I’m mad! So why aren’t _you_ guys mad?!”

“Of fucking course I’m mad!” Tommy shouted over Gordon.

Everyone paused, turning to look at Tommy. In that moment of tense silence, Darnold finally could hear worried whimpers from Joshua. Darnold frowned, reaching for Joshua. Gordon started to pull him away at first, but stopped halfway through the motion before letting out a deep sigh and handing him over to Darnold. Darnold stood, patting Joshua’s back comfortingly as everyone looked up at him.

“Ummm—I’m not really all that...involved in all this.” Darnold said awkwardly. “I’ll just watch over Josh while you guys, uhh, figure this out.”

Darnold carried Joshua out of the room, unsure of where to go. He chose to climb up the stairs, taking Joshua to what looked like one of the guest rooms and plopping down on the floor with him.

“So...” Darnold sighed, letting Joshua loose to explore the room. “Neopets, huh?”

****

Everyone’s eyes were on Tommy, now that Darnold was gone. Tommy bit his lower lip, pressing his fingers into the tip of his spoon as he tried to get words together in his head.

“You’re mad at me, bro?” Benry pressed, a heartbroken look on his face. When Tommy didn’t say anything back in time, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and sighing. “Whatever, man. It’s whatever.”

“I mean, I don’t fucking blame him!” Mr. Freeman started again.

“Guys, stop!” Tommy interrupted. “Would you just give me a second to think, please?”

Everyone went quiet again, allowing Tommy the space he needed to think. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned to Mr. Freeman.

“I wish you wouldn’t—you just...you’re not helping, Mr. Freeman.” Tommy began tentatively. “I understand why you’re mad, but Dr. Coomer was trying to in—uhh, initiate a conversation about it, and you...you immediately started yelling and made it worse.”

“But—”

“Hold on!” Tommy snapped, holding up a hand. Next, he turned to Benry. “I wish you wouldn’t dismiss it when we...when we try to tell you how your actions hurt us.”

“Yeah, but you’re fine.” Benry huffed.

“Oh my god.” Bubby groaned from the other side of the table. “This isn’t going to go anywhere, is it?”

“There’s no need for that attitude, Bubby.” Dr. Coomer scolded gently before turning to address the group again. “We’re all together now, in a safe environment. There’s no reason why we can’t try to see this from other angles, right?”

“What other angle is there?” Mr. Freeman questioned. “He tried to kill us!”

“But _why?_ ” Bubby asked, looking pointedly at Benry.

“What fucking—is there really going to be a satisfactory answer?!” Mr. Freeman shouted.

“No offense, Gordon, but I don’t think you’re going to understand.” Bubby replied as he adjusted his glasses on his face.

“Why not?” Mr. Freeman demanded.

“Because _you_ weren’t an NPC.”

Mr. Freeman stood forcefully, chair clattering to the floor behind him. “How can you tell me that I don’t—I’m just _not_ gonna understand, as if I don’t have a right to this conversation? NPC or not, I was there, too! How can you just—expect me to let it go, like it didn’t mean anything?!”

“We never said that.” Tommy said with a deep frown.

“We’re just worried about you, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer added. “We hoped if you could get closure on this, you could start to move on.”

Mr. Freeman gave Dr. Coomer a surprised look. After a long pause, he seemed to forcibly relax his muscles a little. “...I-I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t yell, you guys don’t need that. I’m...I’m _really_ sorry. It’s just—I’m having a hard time seeing why we should even be hearing him out, here.”

“Man, you gotta calm down.” Benry chimed in, leaning back in his chair casually.

“Benry, would you just shut up for a second, please?” Mr. Freeman asked through gritted teeth.

“It all happened in a game, what’s it matter? You worked up over a game, bro? Gonna freak out about a video game?”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Mr. Freeman screamed, slamming his fists down on the table.

Tommy winced, shutting his eyes and covering his ears, but when he opened them, he had to take a long moment to process what he was seeing. The table was slanted at a strange angle towards him and Mr. Freeman, all the bowls slowly sliding off and shattering on the floor. Tommy looked down at the legs of the table, expecting to find them broken somehow, but instead, he found them clipped right through the floor. Tommy looked up at Mr. Freeman with wide eyes.

“What the—...” Mr. Freeman said under his breath, trying to push the table back to where it belonged, but it stayed stuck where it was. He gritted his teeth, eyes widening in panic as he pushed it harder, only for it to disappear entirely beneath his palms. He stumbled forward, only barely managing to catch himself before he turned to look at everyone, clutching his chest and breathing hard.

“Did you just disappear me and Harold’s table?!” Bubby demanded.

“I-it’s quite alright, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer said with an uneasy smile.

“I’m going home.” Mr. Freeman announced, racing up the stairs. He returned shortly after with Joshua wiggling in his arms, slamming the front door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bubby: https://64.media.tumblr.com/7d4ab74c52fa917f180f9dac972420d0/a2b2e687044e982c-e6/s1280x1920/75e0b16ba6f4312f1553b7f60f0b7f4ad8de214d.png


	12. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman's recovery from the resonance cascade (pt.1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: discussion of pregnancy

“Daddy, I wanna play the Playtation!”

“That _is_ the Playta—I mean, Playstation, bud.” Gordon insisted, watching Joshua focus heavily on the controller in his hands. “Which _game_ do you wanna play? We got, uhhh...Katamari. You wanna play Katamari?”

“This one!” Joshua shouted, clumsily picking up the unopened box for Red Dead Revolver and showing it to Gordon upside down.

“Uhhh, I don’t think that’s a good one for you, Josh.” Gordon said, reaching out to take the box and look at the age rating. “Why don’t I put in Katamari and you can try it out?”

“I wanna play the fucking cowboys!”

Gordon couldn’t help but laugh a little as he set Red Dead Revolver aside to put in Katamari. Joshua threw a small fit about it at first, but Gordon picked up the controller to start playing a little. He wasn’t playing to do well—he was still testing out a new way to hold the controller that made literally _any_ mildly difficult task possible, given his prosthetic hand wasn’t dexterous enough to hit the tiny buttons so close to each other. He had it set out in his lap upside down, diverting the button mashing to his left hand while he used his prosthetic index finger to move the joystick. It was a good idea in theory, he thought, but the controller was still upside down, so he had to think in reverse to get the Prince to move the way he wanted him to on top of relearning the button placement. Frustration at this hobby being made an insurmountable task aside, he only played to catch Joshua’s interest, and it worked within a matter of minutes. Joshua swiped the controller from Gordon, allowing him to finally ease back on the couch with a deep, exhausted sigh.

It was the morning after another sleepless night. He was quickly finding that as much as he wanted coffee to save him, it really didn’t do him much good—in fact, it only made him sleepier. He had to rely on willpower alone to keep him awake for his son. Usually he did okay, only falling asleep towards the end of the day when Joshua was already tuckered out—but today, the morning after a frustrating dinner with the Science Team and company, he was feeling like he was at his limit.

He pushed on, though. He stood up a couple times to do some half-hearted exercises to keep him awake, but after the third round of shitty jumping jacks, Gordon sat down on the couch and immediately fell asleep upon contact.

He woke to a hand shaking his shoulder, a distinctly adult voice saying his name. Gordon opened his eyes, looking up to find the kind, but anxious eyes of Darnold.

“Oh. Hey.” Gordon greeted, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and immediately looking to where he expected to find Joshua. He wasn’t there, though, the only sign of him being the Playstation controller he’d left behind. “Oh, shit. Where’s Josh?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Dr. Freeman.” Darnold answered. “Actually, uhhh, Tommy and I are gonna watch over him for a week.”

“What?” Gordon questioned, standing uneasily. “Why? I didn’t—we didn’t make any plans like that.”

“Well, no.” Darnold replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Listen, Dr. Freeman...I realize this is kinda gonna suck to hear, but we talked this over after you left last night, and we don’t think you’re really in a good state to watch over him right now.”

Gordon stared at Darnold in disbelief. “ _What?_ You’re just gonna take my fucking son?”

“He’s gonna be right next door, it’s not like we’re taking him to fucking Alcatraz. You’re free to come and stay with us, too, or visit whenever you want, it’s just...y’know.” Darnold indicated at the living room. Gordon _had_ let it become sort of a mess. “Kids pick up on these things, Gordon. I know it’s not easy, and I understand you being upset, but Joshua doesn’t need an environment like this.”

“I’m doing the best I can!” Gordon argued. “What do you expect me to do, here? Just magically forgive Benry and let everything that happened just—just not _matter?_ ”

“Of course not.” Darnold said calmly. “That’s the whole point, actually. Childcare is a lot of work, and I know it must be hard to take care of him _and_ try to sort your shit out at the same time. Trust me, this is coming from personal childhood experience, I _know_ what it’s like being the kid in this situation. We’re just giving you the space you need to figure everything out, is all.”

“What do I need to _figure out?_ ”

“Uhhh, you know. Therapy might be a start.”

“Therapy?” Gordon echoed. “I don’t need therapy, man. I’m _fine._ ”

“Are you?” Darnold asked in a sudden sharp tone that took Gordon by surprise. After a brief, contemplative second, he returned to his casual voice. “Listen, this was...well, actually, it sort of was my idea, but the rest of the Science Team agrees this seems like it’s what needs to happen. We’ll watch over him for the week while you figure out what you need, and then obviously, you’re free to call us for additional help at any time. All you have to do is ask.”

Gordon let out an exhausted sigh, plopping down onto his couch and burying his face in his hands. He felt the couch shift a little as Darnold sat down beside him.

“Uhh, I know we’re not, like, all that close or anything.” Darnold said uneasily. “But y’know, you’ve got a lot of cool people who wanna look out for you. And I care, too. This whole, uhhh...I guess you could call it an intervention? It looks harsher than it might for any one of the rest of us just because you have a responsibility to your kid, y’know? It’s not an easy position. On one hand, you just went through something _really_ fucked up. On the other hand, you owe it to Joshua to get back up on your feet so you can provide the best for him.”

“How am I supposed to just shape up in a few days, though?” Gordon asked totally honestly.

“Well, it’s not like we expect you to be in perfect shape in a week. That’s unfair.” Darnold answered. “It’s a starting point, though. It’s a little bit of time to, uhhh...take stock, you know? I know you said you wanna homeschool him, and I think that’s a cool idea, but maybe enrolling him in a preschool would give you some breathing space. Just things like that, figuring out what sort of help you need and where to get it.”

Gordon fell silent, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. He had to admit, Darnold’s cool, rational tone was hard to get too worked up against—particularly when he was so tired. And even if nothing else, he _really_ needed a nap.

“I think you’ll be alright, Dr. Freeman.” Darnold said comfortingly. “We’re all here for you if you need. You don’t have to go through anything alone.”

“...Thank you.” Gordon murmured finally. “...Can I ask one thing, though?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Benry’s staying with you, right?”

“Uhhh, theoretically. We haven’t seen him since last night.”

Gordon slowly sat up. “Well, wherever he is, I don’t want him in the same house as Josh. I know you guys want me to trust him, it’s just—”

“That’s not how _I_ feel. I totally get it.” Darnold interrupted. “Benry’s...well, I don’t wanna insult Tommy’s friend, but I sure wouldn’t trust him with my kid if I were in your shoes.”

Gordon couldn’t help but bark out a loud laugh. “Fuck. I’m _so_ fucking glad at least one of you sees it that way.” After a pause, Gordon leaned back on the couch, giving Darnold a knowing look. “Wouldn’t wanna insult _Tommy’s_ friend, though? His, specifically?”

Darnold tilted his head curiously at Gordon. “Umm, he’s not necessarily _your_ friend, is he...?”

“No, no, it’s just...” Gordon snickered a little. “Y’know, that’s some special consideration for Tommy, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Dr. Freeman, but I’ve decided I have to go right now.” Darnold said seriously, face flushed a little. “Tommy must still be with Josh helping him pack up some of his stuff, if you wanna...”

“Uhh, yeah.” Gordon sighed, dragging himself up to his feet. Darnold waited by the front door as Gordon headed up the stairs to Joshua’s room, where he found Tommy struggling to help Joshua organize some of his things. “Hey, Josh.”

“Dad!” Josh greeted loudly, holding up his stuffed Pikachu.

Kneeling down, Gordon assessed what they already had laid out and packed away before he began helping Tommy fold Joshua’s tiny clothes to put into his little suitcase.

“You excited to stay with uncle Tommy and Darnold?” Gordon asked Joshua with a smile.

Joshua looked doubtfully at Tommy. “Are they uncles?”

“Yeah, I decided that just now.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Listen, Josh, I have the power to decide who is and isn’t your uncle. That’s the kinda freedom I get as your dad.” Gordon said, only half joking.

Tommy smiled brightly, neatly folding one of Joshua’s shirts.

“Are you coming, too?” Joshua asked.

“Uhh—I’ll swing by a couple times, I think, but I gotta get some work done.” Gordon answered as casually as he could manage, sharing a meaningful look with Tommy.

Eventually, Joshua’s things were packed up, and Gordon held Joshua’s hand in his own as they headed down the staircase. At the front door, Darnold smiled down at Joshua as they prepared to leave. Gordon knelt down to meet Joshua’s eye, pushing his hair out of his face and giving him a smile.

“Have fun, alright? Don’t give them too much trouble.” Gordon said gently. He pulled in Joshua for a long hug before letting him go and standing back up. “Umm—thanks, guys.”

“C’mon, Josh.” Darnold said, taking Joshua’s hand and leading him out the front door.

Tommy lingered, though, watching them go for a moment before turning to Gordon to wrap him up in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman.”

Gordon snorted a little, wrapping his arms around Tommy. “No, man, I should be the one apologizing.”

“No, I mean...” Tommy let out a small, frustrated breath. “I feel like—I’ve just sort of been, umm...ignoring our problems for a little bit. I should’ve tried to do something with Benry and all this before—before it reached that point.”

“No, dude, that’s not your fault.” Gordon insisted, patting Tommy’s back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you feel like any of that is your responsibility. I should’ve kept a cooler head last night.”

“What _happened_ last night?” Tommy asked, pulling away to hold Gordon by his shoulders at arm’s length. “I don’t mean you getting mad, I mean the—I mean the table.”

“...I don’t know.” Gordon murmured. “I just—I got angry, and everything felt...weird for a second. Did you feel it? Like...uhhh, like everything just...detached?”

Tommy frowned and shook his head.

“It’s like it just—everything...fuck, I don’t know to explain it.” Gordon went on, struggling to find the words. “Like, if everything in the world is _locked_ , right? We can pick them up and move them, but only with certain rules. The table was locked into its place, and then when I got mad, for a second everything around us _unlocked_ so I could...do that. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

“Ummm...kind of.” Tommy nodded slowly.

“But—y’know what? As fucking insane as that is, I think I need to take one thing at a time.” Gordon sighed, dragging his palm down his face. “Thanks, Tommy. Sorry about...all of this.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Freeman. I get it.”

“If Josh ends up being too much, you can totally call me.”

Tommy got a fond smile on his face, glancing back towards the door. “I think—it’s probably gonna be fine. I think Darnold really likes kids.” After a brief, awkward pause, Tommy took a step back. “Well, I’m gonna go back home. I think Dr. Coomer and Bubby said they were gonna—uhhh, they were gonna visit you a little bit later today.”

Gordon nodded sheepishly. “Okay. Thanks again, Tommy. Sorry to cause you the trouble.”

“It’s not trouble. You’re my friend, Mr. Freeman, of course I—of course I wanna help you.”

Gordon smiled. “...Thanks, man. That’s cool of you.”

Tommy gave Gordon one last hug before turning to leave, closing the door gently behind him. Gordon let out a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair and looking out at his living room. He had a lot of work to get to—cleaning his house would be a start, but the task seemed nearly impossible looking at all the clutter. Instead, Gordon shuffled back to his couch and flopped down. A nap would probably do him good, he thought, draping his arm over his eyes and gently drifting off.

****

Gordon opened his eyes, slowly dragging his aching arm off of his face to find a blanket draped over him. He yawned, pushing himself up to sit on the couch. It was still light out, he noted—so he hadn’t lost the _whole_ day. It was time to get his life sorted out, he thought with slightly stronger determination as he stood.

“Yo.”

Gordon was getting _really_ sick of that.

He turned, finding Benry curled up sideways in the armchair close to the couch. “Benry, I thought I fucking told you not to come into my house!” He snapped.

“Yeah, man, but Tommy ‘n Darnold said I couldn’t stay with them.” Benry complained. “You want me on the cold streets, Gordon?”

“You could go to Bubby and Dr. Coomer’s house! And I mean, where _you_ stay isn’t my fucking responsibility!”

“But their house is like, across the street.” Benry groaned, leaning his head back into the arm of the chair. “Besides, they said uhhh, they said we gotta keep an eye on you. So here I am. Keeping an eye on you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they didn’t say _you specifically_ should watch me.” Gordon argued.

“How would you know? You weren’t there.”

“I mean—no! But like, for all that talk about how much they think we should hear you out, I at least trust they wouldn’t do _that_ to me.” Gordon huffed, plopping back down. “Besides, I don’t need anyone to ‘keep an eye’ on me. I’m a fucking grown man, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

Benry shrugged. “I dunno, man. Sure seems like you’re doing pretty well for yourself to me.”

“What—really?”

Benry indicated to the house around them. “You got a _house._ That’s pretty good.”

It _was_ pretty good. Having an entire house that belonged to him, rather than renting a tiny ass apartment, was a massive step up.

“Wanna play some games?” Benry asked, nodding down to the Playstation on the floor.

“ _No._ ” Gordon growled, standing up again. “I want you out of my house, Benry.”

Benry sighed, long-suffered and dramatic. “Look, dude. I...uhhhhh...I’ve been thinking.”

Gordon quirked an eyebrow at him, slowly sinking back down into the couch.

“Things’ve been making...a little more sense, outside the game.” Benry continued, pulling his hat down by the flaps over his ears. “Not total sense. But more sense than, like, it used to.”

“...Yeah?”

“I’ve been starting to think about shit. Like, for real.”

“That’s a surprise.”

Benry clutched his chest dramatically. “Ugh, Gordon, that hurts. You’re hurting me so much, man.”

His voice was still so deadpan, but there was something about it; Gordon couldn’t help but laugh a little, even if it was a really stupid moment. Maybe it was just the indulgence in his own shitty jokes that he was rarely rewarded, he thought briefly. A flash of a smile spread across Benry’s face before he turned deadpan again.

“But like, seriously, everything about the game, like...” Benry leaned his head back against the arm of the chair again, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment. “I don’t remember anything from before the game. At all.”

Gordon stared at Benry for a long moment. That familiar haze was settling over his mind at the mention of the game, just like always, and he was moving before he could even think about it. He headed up the stairs, rifling through his things still in boxes before returning to the living room, met by Benry’s curious eyes. Gordon clutched a photo tightly in his hands. One he’d stared at for a long time before moving.

“Uhhh...” Gordon sighed, holding out the photo.

Benry accepted it with surprisingly gentle hands, staring at it carefully. “Who’s this? You got some kinda girlfriend or whatever?” He asked.

Gordon snorted. “No, curb your jealousy, Benry.” He joked before he could think too hard about the consequences of it. “That’s me. Uhh, before T and top surgery and everything.”

Benry looked up at Gordon, comparing the photo to the real deal. Gordon had gotten a brief confused moment too, looking at it for the first time—but he knew the face of his son better than his own pre-T, so that had helped him put the pieces together. It must have been taken pretty soon after he’d given birth to Joshua; he was asleep in a hospital bed, cradling Joshua in his arms.

“I don’t remember this.” Gordon admitted, taking the photo back.

“Well, yeah, you were asleep.”

Gordon laughed, despite himself. “Shut up, man. I meant, like, I should remember that day in general. Everyone remembers the day their child was born, especially the one who gave birth, right? No matter how many painkillers I must’ve been on, I’m sure I would’ve remembered like, _anything_ involving that whole process. Going into labor, going to the—”

“Bro, I don’t wanna hear all that mess.” Benry interrupted.

“Dude, grow up, you owe me this monologue.” Gordon huffed. “But like, I should remember _something_ , right? Anything. But I...I just don’t. And it fucking—it _really_ sucks, knowing I should have all these wonderful memories of my own fucking son, but I don't! And it’s like—it’s alienating! I love him, obviously, he’s my son, but it’s just...it feels like there’s some sort of level of disconnect. You know? Like...me and him aren’t really on the same wavelength that we should be. I don’t remember enough to...pick up wherever I must’ve left off.”

Gordon felt horrible finally voicing that thought, but at the same time, it felt pretty good to get it off his chest. He sighed a little, looking at Benry to gauge his reaction.

Benry frowned, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. “...Yeah. Tommy’s pretty convinced I know him.”

Gordon sat back down on the couch, watching Benry closely. “...He is?”

Benry nodded. “And I think he’s, like, upset that I don’t remember.”

“...Has he told you how you know each other, at least?”

“Yeah, something-something-science-project or whatever the fuck. I don’t really remember the story.”

“Dude, you should at _least_ remember the story he told you, right?”

Benry got a dark, frustrated look on his face. “I _know_ , dude.”

Gordon stayed silent. After a long moment, Benry’s eyes glossed over for a second, looking over Gordon’s shoulder before returning to his casual, relaxed expression.

“You don’t _act_ like you forgot everything.” Benry pointed out calmly. “You like, remember society shit. What’s up with that?”

“Well—I mean, I know how things work. I remember...the vague idea of things.” Gordon explained. “But I don’t have any specific memories from before...you know. The game started.”

“You just woke up in there.”

“...Yeah.”

Benry nodded slowly. “Me too. Fucked up, right?”

Gordon nodded as well. “Yeah. Fucked up.”

After a long silence, Gordon got up, grabbing a couple bottles of beer from his fridge and returning to the living room. He held one out to Benry. Benry slowly accepted it, and Gordon sat back down, twisting his open.

“Are you ready to be fucking reasonable if I ask you about when we fought?” Gordon asked. “If you’re not, just tell me before I get all worked up again. I’m too tired to handle that right now.”

Benry shrugged, twisting his own beer open and taking a tentative sip. He made a face at it, holding the beer away from him like something old found in the back of the fridge. “Dude, this shit tastes like ass.”

Gordon laughed. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve never had alcohol before.”

“Of course I have, you think I’m a fucking noob?” Benry questioned. “No, beer just sucks.”

“It does not! It’s fine!”

“No, man, and it’s some—it’s some weak shit, too. There’s shit that tastes _way_ better than this and gets the job done way faster.”

“Well, maybe I’m not looking to get shitfaced.” Gordon pointed out, pointedly taking a long sip of his beer. “You didn’t give me an answer though, dude. Are you gonna be normal if I ask you about the game?”

Benry let out a theatrical sigh. “Fiiiiine.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Benry took a sip of his own beer, making a disgusted sound at it before resting it against his stomach. “I keep trying to tell you guys, I don’t know shit. It _happened._ I kept trying to tell you to turn around, but you wouldn’t! And then we went to Xen, and you just _freaked out_.”

“You turned huge, dude, how was I supposed to react?” Gordon pointed out.

Benry shrugged.

Gordon sighed a little and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then what was all that shit about like, Gamestop and Heavenly Sword or whatever?”

“I made it up.”

Gordon gave Benry an unamused look. “Dude.”

“Listen, man, everyone expected me to have this whole _thing_ , everyone had a backstory, I had to make shit up on the fly.” Benry huffed. “It’s about the _player,_ right? Player likes video games. So I talked about video games. Also, I just like video games.”

Gordon looked down at his drink, inspecting the little beads of leftover beer from the last time he’d taken a sip and the condensation dripping down the sides.

“I didn’t make up the dick slip, though.” Benry said with a far too amused grin.

“What—there’s no fucking way my dick was out!” Gordon shouted. “It’s not like a video game model is gonna have a dick, dude!”

“How do you know that? Maybe there was a mod for it. Gordon Freeman cinematic dick mod. It’s equality, bro.”

Again, despite it all, Gordon couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe the insistence on something like this might have made him furious just days before, but he was quickly finding it harder and harder to be quite so angry with him. Maybe he was just that tired, he thought to himself.

“You’re so fucking stupid, man.” Gordon said, still laughing a little. Benry seemed _very_ pleased with himself, grinning back at Gordon whole-heartedly. After a pleasantly quiet moment, Gordon sighed, remembering how they got to this topic in the first place. “So, it _happened._ You don’t know why, but it did. That’s what you’re saying?”

Benry nodded. “I told you, man. You shot me, so I had to shoot back. That’s like, NPC law, bro, all the guards always shot back, remember? _You_ shot first.”

Gordon let out a long groan.

“Plus, like, y’know. There was no boss. _Someone_ had to be the boss.”

Gordon looked up at Benry, squinting his eyes at him. “What? No boss?”

“Yeah, dude. Would’ve gotten kinda crowded in there, otherwise.” Benry shrugged, then took another long sip of his beer. “I was sorta the easy pick. Y’know? You already hated me. So the game made me the boss.”

Gordon set his beer aside so he could lay down on the couch, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck, dude. I’m...” Gordon paused to sigh. “...I’m sorry.”

There was a long silence before Benry replied. “...Nah, man. I’m sorry.”

“...I’m still mad.”

Benry didn’t reply to that.

“I just—I’m...glad you apologized. I really am. And I’m sorry the game did that. I just...don’t know. I’m still traumatized from it.” Gordon said, barely thinking his words over. “Even if it’s, like, not entirely your fault, it’s still...you certainly didn’t make it easy up to that point, either. And you didn’t make it easy _after_. You gotta get better at communicating, man. Really.”

Benry mumbled something Gordon couldn’t hear.

“Huh?” Gordon asked.

“Sorry.” Benry repeated, a little louder this time. “If...uhh...if you want me to go...”

Gordon let out a deep sigh. “...Nah. It’s...fine, I guess.”

“...Why?”

Gordon looked up at Benry, half expecting that to be some attempt to be annoying, but he looked genuinely curious. Gordon laid back down, staring up at the ceiling as he thought for a moment.

“I’m not sure if that’s something I’m ever really gonna get over, but...I guess, like, you and everyone else are the only ones who are ever gonna get what I went through.” Gordon explained tentatively. “The game was fucked up. _Everyone’s_ sorta different now than they were in the game. Everyone was limited to what they were programmed to be, y’know? So...if the game forced you into that role...I’m...willing to give you a second chance after that. But you _have_ to show an effort from now on, and listen when we tell you you hurt us. Alright?”

Benry sang a few orbs of sweet voice.

“Uhh—what’s that mean?” Gordon asked.

“Means I’ll try.”

Gordon let that hang in the air for a minute. Here they were, just talking, apologizing to each other like real people. They _were_ real people, weren’t they? Realer than they had been during the game, at least. It was getting a little easier to process that thought, but it brought up so many more questions.

“Is this real?” Gordon asked quietly.

Either Benry didn’t hear him, or he simply didn’t care to answer.

Neither of them spoke for a little while. Gordon had half a mind to turn on the TV, just for the background noise, but he didn’t quite have the motivation to move. Benry made the move instead, putting in Read Dead Revolver. Gordon turned his head to watch Benry play for a little while.

“Were you the one who gave me the blanket?” Gordon asked suddenly, smirking a little—he was pretty certain he must have, and was completely ready to get on his case about it.

“Huh? No. Dr. Coomer and Bubby came by first.” Benry answered casually.

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude. Left you a note and everything. Look.” Benry pointed vaguely towards the little table behind Gordon’s head as he rested on the arm of the couch.

Gordon turned over, finding a neatly folded note with Dr. Coomer’s beautiful, looped handwriting.

“What, do you _wish_ it was me?” Benry asked with a sly grin.

“What? No.” Gordon huffed as he unfolded the paper. “I was just gonna say it didn’t seem like you.”

“Yeah, right. Gordon wishing his best friend tucked him in.”

“We’re not best friends. I’m gonna throttle you.” Gordon grumbled half-heartedly before he looked over the note carefully.

_Gordon,_

_I hope you have a good nap! I’m sorry we didn’t wake you, I thought it best to let you get some rest. Bubby has an appointment later this afternoon, so we’ll most likely be out when you wake up, but you can call us at any time you need! :) We’ll come by again tomorrow to check on you._

_With love, Dr. Coomer_ ~~_and Bubby_~~ _and Bubby_

Bubby’s name was, as Gordon would expect, scratched out with a harsher pen stroke before it was rewritten again, still in Dr. Coomer’s handwriting. Gordon set it aside with a deep sigh, turning back to the TV as Benry’s character clipped out of the map.

“Oh no.” Benry muttered, only a hint of concern in his tone.

Benry managed to get the game back on track, doing completely wild things Gordon would never think to try to do and getting bizarre glitches out of it. Maybe Gordon was just in a shitty mindset, but watching Benry play like that, he couldn’t help but fixate on his own perceived narrative of the player character, acting at the whims of Benry. Desperately trying to break the boundaries of the world and escape, unknowing of the fact that he was in a far more intricate prison than he could ever perceive.

Gordon had never thought about it like that—not in depth, at least. He had _refused_ to think about it, in fact; but it didn’t change the fact that he knew it was the truth of his entire existence in the game. He was a player character. So that only begged the question: how much of his actions were his own, and how much was the player? Who _was_ the player?

Gordon dragged himself up off the couch, flexing the fingers on his left hand into a fist, then out. He could do that, because he’d decided to. Right?

Or had the player only gotten bored of sitting around?

Gordon growled quietly to himself, heading off into the kitchen. He could hear the game go quiet behind him and the shuffling of Benry standing, but he ignored him, pausing once he was in his kitchen. Now what? He wondered. Was he just acting out of frustration, not totally sure of what he was thinking of doing, or was he simply not aware of what the player was controlling him into doing?

Gordon heard one of the chairs at the kitchen table scrape against the floor. Gordon looked behind him, watching Benry plop down and watch him closely.

“What’s your deal? Why’re you following me?” Gordon asked him.

Benry looked him over carefully and shrugged.

“Benry, do you...” Gordon paused to get his thoughts in order. “You can tell I’m the player character.”

Benry nodded.

“Do you know how much of that is like, still _true?_ ” Gordon questioned. “Like, can you tell that I’m just a regular guy after the game, or if there’s still something that makes me... _playable?_ ”

Benry opened his mouth, a grin forming on his face, before he suddenly seemed to decide against what he was going to say. His smile fell, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Uhh, I dunno, man. I barely even know what _I_ am, anymore.”

“What sort of sense does it make, that we went from a video game to the real world like that?” Gordon questioned, pacing restlessly in the kitchen. “There’s something _wrong._ I don’t think...I don’t think we _are_ in the real world. How could that even be possible?”

Benry didn’t have a response to that.

“And—and last night, with the table. That’s _proof._ ” Gordon said, his heart beginning to race as he spoke. “Here. I could do it again, probably.”

“Do you gotta?”

Gordon ignored him, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. He placed his hands on the back of another chair at his table, doing his best to get back into that mindset he’d been in last night. With as much force as he could muster, he lifted his hands and slammed them back down on the chair, crying out in pain when he was met with resistance. He opened his eyes again, finding the chair in exactly the same position it had been in before.

“You good?” Benry asked.

“I’m _fine._ ” Gordon growled, rubbing his prosthetic fingers over the palm of his left hand. “But Tommy saw it, though. You all saw it. Right?”

“No.”

“I’m _not_ making it up!” Gordon shouted defensively. “Here, I can still prove it!”

“You don’t have to prove it, dude.” Benry said as Gordon paced around in the kitchen.

“I _do!_ ” Gordon argued, rifling through the kitchen in a desperate attempt to find some way to prove his theory. What would he do in a video game that would usually break immersion? He wondered. Something that would absolutely work in the real world, but might provide some comical response in the game.

Gordon picked up a plate and dropped it on the floor.

“Bro!” Benry exclaimed, pressing his palms to his ears.

Gordon stared down at it. In many other games, it might have just bounced slightly, remaining totally intact otherwise. This plate most definitely shattered, though, laying on the floor in several sharp pieces. Gordon immediately pictured unseen seams on the plate, invisible lines where it had been predetermined to break apart. He reached for another plate, moving to the side a little to drop it with a loud crash. This one broke differently, separated into a couple more pieces than the first.

“What are you doing, dude?” Benry questioned.

“What if there’s a few different ways it could break?” Gordon wondered aloud, reaching for another plate.

“You wanna stop that, please?” Benry demanded.

Gordon ignored him, smashing another plate and inspecting the pieces carefully. It was pretty similar to the way the first one broke—but maybe not quite similar enough. He’d have to get a ruler to be totally sure, but for now, he was content to keep smashing more plates. He turned to grab another, and by the time he turned back around, he found Benry standing right in front of him, careful not to be stepping on any ceramic shards. Benry wrenched the plate away from Gordon, setting it hastily on the countertop.

“ _Please_ stop doing that, thanks? It’s too fucking loud.” Benry hissed.

“You don’t believe me, though!” Gordon said accusingly. “I have to show you what I’m talking about! I can—I can _feel_ it, I just _know_ it’s not real, but you—”

“I believe you, man!” Benry interrupted. “You literally don’t have to prove it, I already know it’s not real.”

Gordon breathed out in defeat, dropping his arms to his sides. “It’s not real.” He echoed quietly, carefully lowering himself to the floor between plate shards.

Benry sank to the floor as well, brushing pieces of plate away to clear a spot. They sat cross-legged across from each other, staring at the mess Gordon had made in silence.

“How do I know I’m...I’m _me?_ ” Gordon asked, leaning back to rest against the cabinets behind him.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, _yeah,_ it matters.” Gordon said, furrowing his brow. “How would it feel to you, if, like—everything you did, you had no idea if it was someone else’s idea? Like nothing you do is _actually_ motivated by your own...your own _intent_ , but it’s all to achieve some goal that you don’t even know about?”

Benry paused for a long, contemplative moment before shrugging.

Gordon let out a bitter laugh. “What if, like—what if all this is just some sort of stupid achievement you can get? ‘Reality shatterer’ or something stupid like that.”

Benry didn’t reply.

Gordon pressed a hand to his face, heaving out an exhausted sigh. “...If none of this is real, then...does that mean Josh isn’t real?”

Benry stayed quiet. They sat there in silence for a long time before boredom began to eat at Gordon, and he slowly pulled himself to his feet, looking out at the sea of broken plate shards between him and Benry.

“I’d better clean this up.” Gordon murmured. Benry shuffled out of the way, allowing Gordon to sweep up the pieces in silence. Once the kitchen was safe again, Gordon sat down at the kitchen table, pinching the bridge of his nose. “...What do we even do about this?”

Benry sat back down as well, one seat away from Gordon. “Huh?”

“This.” Gordon repeated, indicating at the open air around them. “ _Reality._ What do you do when you _know_ nothing is real?”

Benry shrugged.

Gordon sighed in frustration, laying his head down on the table. “You’re not really the best person to talk to about this, are you?”

“Probably not.”

“...Wanna play some video games?”

“Fuck yeah, dude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gordon's emotional truth of watching benry play red dead revolver https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Aj2Pt5vWT8


	13. REPORT: Regarding B.Coomer and H.Coomer's states after the resonance cascade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: almost a car accident in this one but they're ok!
> 
> also thank you again to everyone leaving such kind comments!!!! it makes me so happy to see u all enjoying this so much!!!!! even if i don't respond directly please know i'm cherishing every single one u leave......

Harold and Bubby sat in their car, completely silent now that Harold had taken the keys out of the ignition. The two of them stared at a short, beige building, a sign out in the front with several business names listed. Glancing at his watch and determining it was an acceptable time to head inside, Harold turned to Bubby, who gripped his seatbelt strapped over his chest tightly in his hands.

“It’s going to be alright, Bubby.” Harold said with a comforting smile, gently placing his hand over one of Bubby’s. Bubby looked down, releasing the seatbelt to gingerly lace his fingers between Harold’s.

“I don’t see the point of this.” Bubby muttered, looking out his window.

Harold knew the tone he used all too well—he didn’t want to admit he was nervous. Harold squeezed Bubby’s hand a little tighter.

“I can go in with you, if you’d like.” He suggested.

Bubby let out a tense breath, finally turning to look Harold in the eye. He allowed a little bit of honest anxiety to show through on his face as he rubbed his thumb over Harold’s.

“...If you think it’d help.” Bubby replied quietly.

Harold and Bubby released each other’s hands to climb out of the car, then rejoined their hands again as they entered the building. Harold led Bubby down the hall, carefully inspecting each door until he found the one with the name he was looking for. It had a simple title, which had been one of Bubby’s bigger deciding factors as they went through their provided list of suggested therapists—the door was simply labeled _Rosenburg & Associates Counseling._ (Bubby had insisted he didn’t want a place with a “pretentious name about healing or whatever”.) Harold pushed open the door, feeling Bubby’s hand tighten around his as they entered the waiting room.

Once they were checked in, Harold and Bubby sat down beside each other, Harold picking up a vaguely interesting magazine to look through. Bubby stared up at the television up in the corner, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and bouncing his leg as they waited.

“He’s not gonna believe me.” Bubby whispered bitterly, not for the first time.

Harold looked up at Bubby, setting the magazine down to place his hand on his shoulder. “Now, Bubby, we went through the whole process of getting fully approved for you to see him! After signing all those agreements, I’m sure he recognizes he’ll be working with someone with a...rather unconventional background.”

Bubby didn’t look entirely convinced, but took Harold’s hand in his own, muscles relaxing just a little bit.

“Do you want me to be there with you?” Harold asked him gently.

Bubby bit his lip, thinking for a long moment before shaking his head. “I can talk to a man on my own for an hour, Harold. I’m not a fucking wimp.”

Harold smiled a little and nodded. “Okay. I’ll be out here when you’re done.”

As if on cue, a young woman could be heard saying goodbye to someone before heading out of one of the offices, followed by man similar in age to Harold and Bubby. The man glanced between the two of them.

“Bubby?” He asked.

Bubby squeezed Harold’s hand so tightly, it might have hurt, if it weren’t for his sturdy cybernetic hand. He stood, though, casting Harold a nervous look before gently pulling his hand away, then approached the man.

“I’m Dr. Rosenburg.” The man greeted, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Bubby shook his hand wordlessly.

“Is this your husband?” Dr. Rosenburg asked, nodding towards Harold.

Harold and Bubby replied at the same time—Bubby automatically giving him a tentative “yes”, while Harold responded with a hopeful “perhaps soon”. Bubby’s face went a little red.

“Well—I’m an old fucking man, I’m not going to call him my ‘ _boyfriend_ ’. That sounds so immature.” Bubby grumbled.

Harold snickered as Bubby and Dr. Rosenburg talked for a brief moment, then headed into his office, closing the door behind them with a quiet _click_. Harold patted his thighs restlessly, glancing up at the TV. There was some sort of home renovation show on—seemingly a universal constant in all waiting rooms lucky enough to have one, Harold thought—which didn’t necessarily grab his interest. After a few minutes of flipping through magazines, he heard a pleasant chime from his phone, vibrating a couple times in his pocket. Harold pulled it out and flipped it open, finding new text messages from Tommy.  
  
**TOMMY:** hi dr coomer  
**TOMMY:** have you gone to mr freemans house yet?

Harold looked his phone over carefully. He knew how to make calls with it, that was simple enough—but text messaging had eluded him a little bit. There was the keypad with all the numbers, and strings of 3-4 letters underneath on each button in alphabetical order. How did he use them to type words? He wondered, pressing buttons with his index finger.  
  
**HAROLD:** 4G444GI  
**HAROLD:** H333D3FEF  
**TOMMY:** ?  
**HAROLD:** **#11TWJ*  
**TOMMY:** ill just call you

As promised, a couple moments later, his phone began to play the default ringtone as he received a call from Tommy. Harold stepped out of the waiting room politely before answering it.

“I’m sorry, Tommy! Text messaging is not my specialty.” Harold said, leaning against the wall behind him. “Yes, we did go to Gordon’s house. He was asleep, so we decided to let him rest.”

“Oh, okay.” Tommy replied. In the background, Harold could hear Joshua shouting something he couldn’t quite make out. “...You haven’t seen Benry, have you?”

“No, I’m sorry, Tommy.” Harold answered. “Bubby and I are out at the moment.”

Tommy didn’t respond.

“...Is there a reason to be concerned?” Harold asked carefully.

“...I don’t know.” Tommy said quietly after a long pause. “I think—I think I, um, hurt his feelings when I told him he couldn’t—uhhh...couldn’t stay with us while we were watching Joshua.”

“Oh, dear.” Harold sighed, twirling his hair between his fingers. “What happened?”

“Well, I just—I told him that, um...Mr. Freeman didn’t want him and Joshua in the same house. And he said that it was fine, he was just gonna stay in his room, but...” Tommy paused for a little while. “I told him if he kept dis—uhh, disregarding what I said, especially when it wasn’t really something that—it wasn’t _my_ choice, I can’t be lenient on that! But...if he ignored me, he wasn’t welcome to stay with me and Darnold.”

“Oh, that must have been quite stressful.” Harold said sympathetically. “Well, Benry knows he can stay with us, I gave him a spare key. I’m sure once Bubby and I get home, we’ll see him there.”

Tommy fell silent again.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“...I’m just...worried.” Tommy said, only just barely loud enough for Harold to hear him. “I mean—I’m worried about—...I’m _mad_ at Benry, but he’s still my friend. And I’m worried about Mr. Freeman. I keep wondering if...all of this is really okay.”

“Now, Tommy, we just went through something very difficult. It makes sense things are going to be a little rocky after all we’ve been through.” Harold told him gently.

“...Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“If there’s anything you need, Tommy, all you have to do is ask.” Harold reminded him. “I’m here for you. Okay?”

“...Thanks, Dr. Coomer. Umm—how are _you_ doing?”

“Me?” Harold asked in surprise.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m fine! There’s no need to worry about me. You have enough on your plate as it is.” Harold said with a laugh.

Tommy paused for a long moment. “...Well, I’m uhh—I’m here for you too, if you need any help.”

Harold smiled fondly. “Thank you, Tommy. I really am doing just fine, but it’s a comforting thought nonetheless.”

“Okay. Well, ummm...I should probably go. I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna leave Darnold alone with Joshua too long.”

“Of course! Tell Darnold and Joshua I said hi. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dr. Coomer. I’ll tell them. Bye.”

“Bye, Tommy!”

Harold flipped the phone shut, stuffing it back into his pocket before heading inside the waiting room again and sitting back down with a sigh. He glanced back up at the TV. They had torn a whole wall out of the house, camera set outside to get a good view of the show hosts walking around inside. It was a remarkably familiar sight—Harold remembered being outside the map in the game, the way the ceilings and outer walls disappeared to give him a view inside the buildings.

Harold clenched his hand into a fist, clawing the fabric over his knee as his fingers curled in. For however much he was forced to think about the game, he _still_ wasn’t getting used to those memories. He had to push on, though, push through those feelings in order to help his friends. It wasn’t like they were doing too well for themselves on their own. Maybe that was an unfair thought—but he didn’t blame any of his friends at all for struggling. On the other hand...

Harold closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall behind him and taking a deep, steadying breath. Having a panic attack in the waiting room of a therapy office was a little too on the nose for his tastes, so he did his best in the time he had left to calm himself down.

“Harold?”

Harold jumped in surprise, opening his eyes wide to look up at Bubby. He pulled his sleeve back to look at his watch. It had really been an entire hour, somehow.

“O-oh, I must have dozed off for a minute there.” Harold forced a laugh as he stood.

Bubby stared at Harold with an unamused look. “Dozed off?” He echoed flatly.

Clearly, he’d seen through it easily. Under normal circumstances, Harold would have admitted to his lie, but Dr. Rosenburg was stood right behind Bubby, holding a clipboard in his hands. Instead, Harold nodded. “Umm—how did everything go?” He asked evasively.

Dr. Rosenburg immediately began talking at Harold about coverage, future appointments, and other things he wasn’t fully processing. His heart was still racing, and everything around him was feeling too distant for him to really grasp; so he just nodded some more, grinning and bearing through the interaction until it was over. Soon, he shook hands with Dr. Rosenburg, then he grasped Bubby’s, heading out to their car.

“Are you alright?” Bubby asked as they stepped outside.

“Hm? Of course.” Harold replied, putting on a smile for him and unlocking the car. “How did your appointment go?”

Bubby gave Harold a skeptical look as they each climbed into the car. “Harold, when I agreed to be honest with you when I’m having problems, I figured that would go both ways.”

“...It’s okay. I’ll be okay in a moment.” Harold said, fumbling with his keys to turn on the car. Bubby reached into the glove compartment for a CD—this new car didn’t have a tape player, so they’d had to convert to CDs like everyone else—and put something in. Soothing jazz began to play over the speakers. Harold smiled, reaching for Bubby’s hand. “Thank you.”

“What happened?”

Harold leaned his head back into the headrest and closed his eyes. “Something reminded me of...when I went outside the map for the first time.”

Bubby didn’t say anything, instead squeezing Harold’s hand a little tighter. They sat there together in silence until the panic attack finally subsided, and Harold was able to breathe easily. Everything still felt distant and wrong, but that was fine, he thought—all he wanted in the moment was to go home.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Bubby asked as Harold pulled on his seatbelt.

“Well, _you_ don’t have a license.” Harold replied, trying to give him a playful tone as he pushed down the parking brake.

“I drove that car back in Black Mesa, that was simple enough. I can handle it.”

“I know you’re a fantastic driver, Bubby, but it’s okay.” Harold lied as he backed out of their parking spot. Bubby huffed, crossing his arms and looking out his window.

It wasn’t a long drive back to their house, at least. Harold watched the road attentively, letting the music wash over him as he followed behind another car. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as his head grew fuzzier; he could still _see_ , but somehow, everything seemed to grow a little darker around him—not physically, but...existentially. The thought didn’t quite make any sense to him. His muscles relaxed a little involuntarily as his mind seemed to detach itself from his body, making his surroundings completely unreadable. When he came to, he found himself approaching a red light at an intersection much too quickly. He pressed on the brakes a little harsher than he normally would, earning a startled grunt from Bubby, but no harm was done, Harold reassured himself. He let out a cautious breath as it went green again, and he gently pressed the gas pedal.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” Bubby asked uneasily.

“I’m fine! We’re almost home.” Harold insisted with as calm a voice he could muster.

Bubby didn’t look convinced, but he went quiet, crossing his arms and staring out the windshield.

Harold watched the road carefully. Whatever this was, they could focus on it once they got home, he told himself silently—they were only a few minutes away, after all. Guilt churned in his gut a little as he pictured them going home just to talk about _his_ problems, though, after Bubby’s very first therapy appointment; he had wanted to talk it over with him, help him decide if Dr. Rosenburg was the right fit. On top of pretty much all of his friends currently having some level of crisis, should he really be adding to the list?

“ _Harold!_ ” Bubby shouted.

Harold took in a sharp breath, suddenly aware of a stopped car they were approaching fast. Before he knew it, Bubby’s hand was on the steering wheel, wrenching it to the side to avoid the stopped car in front of them by inches. Harold slammed on the breaks, stopping diagonally in the next lane over. The two of them sat there in silence, breathing hard as other cars around them began to honk.

“Harold—” Bubby started.

“I-I know, I’m...I’ll pull over.” Harold said breathlessly. He carefully maneuvered the car properly into their lane, waiting for the green light to cross the intersection and pull into a grocery store parking lot. Once they were safely in a parking space and the parking brake was engaged, the two of them let out a relieved sigh.

“What the fuck?” Bubby asked.

Harold swallowed hard, heart still racing. “I—I don’t know. I was just driving, and I just...blacked out.” He explained shakily. “Like...my body was still awake, but my brain wasn’t.”

Bubby frowned, unlatching his seatbelt. “Come on. I’ll drive us the rest of the way.”

“No, it’s not safe.” Harold said firmly. “I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of driving us home, if the roads were _empty_.”

Bubby growled quietly, leaning back into his seat and pulling out his phone. “Then I’m calling Tommy.”

Harold’s face burned in embarrassment as Bubby called for Tommy to come help them. As they waited for their help to arrive, Harold rested his forehead against the steering wheel, closing his eyes tightly.

“Are you okay?” Bubby asked, placing his hand on Harold’s upper arm.

Harold couldn’t very well say yes and have it be convincing, anymore, so he just sighed, leaning back to rest against his seat.

“Whatever happened, I’m sure we can figure it out.” Bubby said reassuringly.

“I don’t want to be a bother.” Harold admitted, taking Bubby’s hand.

“Harold, I think I’ve pretty well proven over the years that no matter what shape you’re in, I’m not gonna see you that way.” Bubby said flatly.

“Exactly! I’ve already put so much on you in the past.” Harold pointed out, a lump forming in his throat. “I don’t want to do this when you need my help.”

“I’m not gonna keel over and die over a single therapy appointment! I can handle being sort of uncomfortable for a little bit about that while you’re dealing with something a lot more concerning.”

Harold buried his face in his hands, trying to hide a sob that managed to escape. Bubby picked up on it, though, starting to gently rub his back as he couldn’t stop himself from crying. Something about it made that disconnect in his head threaten to return with a vengeance; he gently reached up and took Bubby’s hand to stop him, squeezing it tightly in his own instead. They were quiet otherwise, just waiting patiently for Tommy to arrive. It didn’t take long for Harold to hear a couple gentle knocks on his window, looking up to find Tommy stood there. Harold unlatched his seatbelt and pulled himself out of the driver’s seat.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Harold nodded, wiping at his eyes. “I-I’ll be alright, Tommy. There’s no need to worry about me.” He said on impulse.

Tommy reached out to Harold as he tried to get into the back seat, taking him by the shoulders and staring at him with intense, glowing eyes. _Glowing?_ Harold thought with a start, noticing for the first time the way they caught in the light. Well, he _was_ that mysterious man’s son, after all...and it wasn’t like after all these years, he’d actually seen Tommy in the sunlight very often.

“Dr. Coomer, with everything that’s going on, we—we need to be honest with each other.” Tommy said carefully. “We’re a family. We have a—like, we have a responsibility to each other. If you’re not okay...then please tell us. We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.”

Harold frowned, wiping at his eyes again. “...I don’t know.”

“...Let’s get home, then.” Tommy said, releasing Harold to climb into the driver’s seat. Harold climbed into the back, Bubby still sat in the passenger seat.

As Tommy drove them the rest of the way home, Harold explained again what had happened. Tommy glanced at Harold in the rearview mirror, taking a long pause to think his words over.

“That could’ve been a dissociative episode.” Tommy suggested. “I umm—I’ve never had it like that before, but I remember when I was...uhh...well, I knew other people when I was younger who described it like that. I mean, I’m not a doctor, I don’t know—you should really still, umm, get checked to see if it’s something else. Just in case. With your age and all...”

“I’ve never had this happen to me before, though.” Harold said, twirling his hair in his fingers.

“Well, it’s like you said, we just went through something really bad. It’s not surprising to think that you might start—you’d start reacting to things in different ways.” Tommy said as he made the turn into their neighborhood. “Like, you _just_ had a panic attack because something reminded you of the game. So...I think it lines up. You should see a doctor, though.”

Harold frowned, slumping back into his seat a little. At the very least, he had to be grateful there was a possibility that didn’t mean he was at some terrifying health risk. On the other hand, though, he really had felt like he was dying earlier. “...Thank you for your input, Tommy. That makes a lot of sense.”

Once they were pulled into Harold and Bubby’s driveway, they all got out, and Bubby and Harold thanked Tommy for his help before he headed back to his home with Darnold. Bubby led Harold inside, where they sat down with a relieved sigh on their couch. Harold curled up against Bubby and closed his eyes.

“...You know, it might be a good idea if _you_ go to therapy, too.” Bubby suggested. “You spent all that time telling me about how it could be beneficial and all that, don’t think it’s not going to go both ways.”

Harold frowned. “I...don’t quite have the energy to think about this right now.”

Harold could feel Bubby’s chin brush against his head as he nodded. “Okay. But I’m holding you to it.”

Harold sighed, burying his face in Bubby’s shoulder. “How did your appointment go?” Harold asked, voice muffled into Bubby’s shirt.

“...It was just the consultation, so...” Bubby sighed. “I’m not sure how I feel about him just yet. He sort of reminds me of...when they were doing psych evals on me, but I’m not sure that’s necessarily _his_ fault, so...you know.”

Harold tilted his head to talk to Bubby more clearly. “If you decide you’d rather see someone else, I’ll help you look.”

“You don’t _have_ to if you don’t think you have it in you. I’m—...I’m _really_ grateful to have you helping me with all of this, but I could figure it out on my own if I need to. Or I could ask someone else.”

Harold nodded slowly, burying his face back into Bubby’s shoulder. “...Okay. Thank you, Bubby.”


	14. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman's recovery from the resonance cascade (pt.2)

“I really think I should be there.”

“It’s fine! You should really stay home and rest.” Bubby insisted as he pulled on his shoes. “Gordon can cope with not seeing you for a single day. I already went through this whole process, I know how it works, so I’m just as capable of helping him as you are.”

“I had _one_ dissociative episode yesterday. That doesn’t mean I should miss out on being there for my friend!” Harold argued.

“Harold, I know you all too well. You’re going to overextend yourself.” Bubby said sternly. “You can swing by tomorrow if you’re so worried. But for now, you’ve earned yourself some rest.”

Harold sighed miserably. “I don’t want Gordon to think I don’t care.”

“Trust me, if there’s anyone in this whole group who’s made it known that they care about Gordon, it’s you. He knows, and he’ll understand if I tell him you’re not feeling well.” Bubby told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, we have a whole week of checkins to be doing. Missing one isn’t going to kill him.”

“Just...” Harold squeezed his fingers tightly in his hand. “Be gentle with him, Bubby.”

Bubby rolled his eyes. “Alright. I’ll refrain from kicking his ass. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Bubby, my dear, I love you very much, but you _do_ have a tendency to be mean.”

“I know.”

“And Gordon doesn’t need _mean_ right now. He needs a compassionate friend to show him kindness.” Harold went on, holding him firmly by his shoulders. “Be gentle with him. Okay?”

“Of course I’m going to be nice, Harold, he’s my friend. I care just as much as you do.” Bubby said hurriedly. “I’ll be back in a little while. Call if you need me.”

Harold pulled Bubby into a quick kiss before letting him go. Bubby did his best to look serious as he turned around, heading out the front door and across the street to Gordon’s house.

As he approached the door, he could hear shitty music coming from inside. Good, at least that meant he was awake this time, Bubby thought as he tried the door. Locked. He knocked on it a few times, unsurprised when Gordon never answered. He opted instead to head around back, hoping to find the back door unlocked. The music was louder here, and this time, he got a good look at what Gordon was up to through the sliding glass door.

Gordon was enthusiastically singing along to the song he was playing at full volume— _I tried so hard, and got so far / But in the end, it doesn’t even matter_ —using a hairbrush as a pretend microphone as he sang. What a cliché, Bubby thought as he rolled his eyes. Sat sideways in the armchair, though, was Benry of all people, pressing his palms to his ears and his hat pulled over his eyes. Maybe Gordon was trying out psychological torture as a means to get Benry to leave, Bubby mused. Bubby tried the door, finding it just as locked as the front, so he knocked again, watching Gordon expectantly as he jumped in surprise and looked at Bubby.

The music grew painfully loud as Gordon slid the door open for Bubby, causing Bubby to plug his ears the same as Benry. Gordon swiftly reached for a little remote, turning the music off for them.

“Gordon, what the fuck?” Bubby questioned.

“I was just—I was trying to prove a point.” Gordon explained with a hesitant, lopsided smile.

Bubby squinted at Gordon, then looked around at the living room. There were empty beer bottles everywhere, along with an empty vodka bottle and a half-drunk mixer.

Harold’s words echoed in Bubby’s head. _Be gentle with him._ But he was already finding it hard to follow up on that promise.

“Are you fucking drunk?” Bubby demanded.

“Uhhh—I mean, I had a few drinks.” Gordon said sheepishly.

“It’s nine o’clock in the fucking morning!”

“...I haven’t slept.”

“Please tell me you at least did _something_ to benefit your life before you started drinking.”

Gordon sank down onto the couch, clumsily brushing his hair out of his face. “Well, I mean—I talked it out with Benry.”

Bubby looked to Benry, who waved at Bubby.

“Should I ask? Or is it gonna be a whole story that’s just gonna make me angry?” Bubby asked.

“Uhhh...”

“Gordon, that’s all well and good, but _this_ isn’t appropriate right now.” Bubby scolded, indicating broadly at the mess in the room. “Tommy and Darnold are watching your son so you can figure your shit out. Not so you can get drunk with Benry!”

“Hey, you guys were the ones who wanted me to make peace with Benry.” Gordon argued. “And now that I have, you’re getting mad at me over it?”

“I didn’t say you talking to him was a bad thing! You’re putting words in my mouth.” Bubby snapped. “The thing I have an issue with is you getting drunk and ignoring your responsibilities!”

Gordon deflated, burying his face in his hands. “God. I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just—I got a little carried away.”

Bubby let out an exhausted sigh. “It’s fine. Whatever the fuck was going on in here stops _now,_ though. You—”

“Yooo, you’re gonna be a party pooper?” Benry asked with a huff.

“ _You’re_ not helping!” Bubby growled before turning back to Gordon. “Let’s just start easy. You two start cleaning up this mess.”

“What? What’re you telling _me_ what to do for?” Benry complained.

Bubby lifted his hand, a controlled flame sparking into his palm threateningly. “Because you let this happen! Get up!”

Benry let out a long-suffered groan, rolling off the armchair and flopping down onto the floor.

“I’m going to need to borrow your computer, Gordon.” Bubby announced.

“Oh, yeah, uhh—you can grab my laptop from my room. It’s on the nightstand.” Gordon muttered.

Bubby nodded and headed up the stairs. Was he being too harsh? He wondered. What would Harold have done? Probably coddle him until he got back up and got to work, which would’ve taken a good while. Bubby’s approach may have been harsh, but it was _efficient_ , at least. Gordon would have things shaped up in no time.

He wasn’t actually mad _at_ him, he thought as well as he found the laptop and unplugged it to take downstairs. He paused, glancing around at the mess in Gordon’s room. He was just...worried. He didn’t know how to act when he was worried. Maybe that would have to be something he discussed with his therapist, he contemplated. That thought made him recall clipboards around him, hushed scientists talking about his “emotional dysregulation”—Bubby shook the memory out of his head and shifted the laptop underneath his arm as he left Gordon’s bedroom.

Bubby returned downstairs with Gordon’s laptop, sitting down on the couch and opening it up. He pulled out the page he’d torn from his own confidentiality agreement packet with the list of recommended therapists, trying to be sly about the fact that he’d clearly taken notes on it—he didn’t want to admit to Gordon he was going to therapy himself if he didn’t have to. Gordon turned the music back on, much quieter this time as he and Benry slowly worked through getting the living room organized. By the time they were done with the living room, Bubby had gone through and created a list on Gordon’s computer of therapist options he’d deemed viable.

“What _is_ this band?” Bubby asked in disgust as he closed Gordon’s laptop.

“It’s Linkin Park.” Gordon replied with a smile. “They’re good!”

“No, this is horrible.” Bubby said with a grimace.

“Don’t insult them, he’s just gonna—” Benry tried to warn him, but was brutally interrupted by Gordon.

“ _Craaawwwling iiiin my skiiiiin!_ ” Gordon sang along, practically at the top of his lungs.

“Ugh, stop!” Bubby shouted over him. “I’m starting to regret helping you!”

“Hey, you’re the one who knows all the words to Iron Man by _Black Sabbath_.”

“That’s because it’s a good song!” Bubby said defensively. 

Gordon laughed playfully. “Yeah, whatever, man.”

Bubby set Gordon’s laptop aside, agreeing to help him get the rest of the house in order and help finally unpack the rest of Gordon’s things. He wouldn’t want to admit it to their faces, but it wasn’t too bad once they got in the groove of things. The three of them talked as they worked, listening to more of Gordon’s horrible music; it was a weird taste of genuine domesticity out in the real world Bubby hadn’t quite gotten used to—not to mention, it was a relief to not have Gordon immediately attempt to kill Benry any time he even breathed too loudly. The curiosity about what had quelled such an intense grudge overnight was really starting to eat at Bubby—not that he’d admit to that, either.

Benry wasn’t necessarily too much help, but with Bubby picking up his slack, they were clear to move on to unpacking relatively quickly. Bubby knelt in front of one of the boxes in Gordon’s bedroom, rifling through it to set items out for Gordon to look over. He paused, however, when he found a photograph tossed loosely inside, slightly crumpled after being squished between an old cassette player and a busted-looking camera. He looked it over closely. It took a moment for Bubby to recognize him, but given the context of the photo, he was able to determine it must have been Gordon before T, knelt down on the floor with a baby Joshua. His hair was cut much shorter, he had no facial hair, and he looked exhausted—but happy. Not intensely traumatized by a horrible event that nearly killed him several times over. Or an event that had cost him his arm. Guilt washed over Bubby at having found a pre-T photo of Gordon without realizing, but something stopped him from putting it down. Behind Gordon was one of those full-length closet mirrors, and in the reflection, Bubby could see the lower half of the photographer. There wasn’t anything particularly distinctive about them—all he could see was a plain pair of sweatpants and socks.

“Oh, hey, you found another baby picture.” Gordon commented, suddenly hovering over Bubby’s shoulder.

“Uhh, yeah.” Bubby held it out sheepishly to Gordon for him to look at. “Who’s that taking the picture?”

Gordon stared at the photo for a long time before sighing, combing his fingers through his hair. “Uhhh...I don’t know.”

Bubby quirked an eyebrow curiously at him. “You don’t?”

“Logically, I guess it would probably be Josh’s other parent, but...I don’t...remember anything specific from before the game.” Gordon said as he sat down cross-legged beside Bubby, still staring down at the photo. “I remember vague stuff about like, how society works, what stuff Joshua likes—that sort of thing. But...I guess since whoever Josh’s other parent is isn’t in my life anymore, I just...don’t remember them.”

Bubby frowned. “Really? Like, you just...woke up in the game?”

Gordon nodded.

Bubby put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “That sort of makes sense. You’re the player, so...”

“But what the fuck does that _mean?_ ” Gordon questioned suddenly. “I don’t _feel_ like the player. I just—I just feel like...a guy. Am I like, _the player_ , or am I just the player character? Was I being controlled back then? Am I being controlled _now?_ ”

Bubby shrugged. “I don’t know, I was just an NPC. That’s something _you_ would have to figure out.”

Gordon buried his face in his hands with a long groan. “None of it makes sense, Bubby.” He mumbled into his hands.

“Uhhh...” Bubby looked awkwardly at Gordon, clearly miserable in front of him, needing some sort of comfort. “I-it...it’ll be okay, Gordon.”

Gordon peered up at Bubby, not looking at all convinced, but slowly lowering his hands to rest in his lap.

“Hey, can we be done? I wanna eat.” Benry chimed in from Gordon’s bed.

Bubby glanced at the unpacking they had left to do. It might take them a little while, he determined, so a break to eat might be acceptable.

“Alright. I’ll order food.” Bubby sighed, trying to feign more annoyance in his tone than he was feeling.

They ordered Chinese food from a restaurant nearby—Bubby ordering Harold’s usual choice as well to set aside for him—and they all sat down at Gordon’s table, Bubby listening to Gordon and Benry argue about some video game as they ate. Bubby tuned them out, resting his head in his hand as he thought about what Gordon had said. He didn’t remember anything pre-game, and he didn’t know what it meant to be the player. Bubby had gotten vague ideas of what the game was _supposed_ to be like just through being an NPC—or, more accurately, what it _wasn’t_ supposed to be like. They weren’t meant to be self aware, they weren’t meant to follow Gordon through the entirety of Black Mesa like that, Gordon wasn’t meant to get his arm cut off, and Benry most certainly wasn’t meant to be the final boss. Also, Bubby had the sneaking suspicion that Tommy probably wasn’t supposed to be that guy’s son, and Chuck E. Cheese wasn’t in the original plan.

So, they had sway over the game while they were in it, but to what extent? Bubby wondered. Benry had a lot, clearly; but he wondered how much Gordon would have been able to influence things as the player. Did he have some subtle sway, just without realizing? Or was the player someone actively and knowingly pulling the strings, without Gordon’s knowledge? _That_ would be unnerving, to say the least, Bubby thought.

“ _No!_ I’m not gonna let you talk shit about Kane and Lynch!” Gordon shouted suddenly. “I bet you haven’t even _played_ it.”

“No, ‘cuz it looks like shit.” Benry replied.

“You spent three hours last night trying to tell me that some fucking—god, what was it? That shitty Playstation game?”

“Croc.”

“You were trying to tell me that _Croc_ was a good fucking game, and then I looked it up, and _that_ looked like shit!” Gordon argued. “You—”

Benry cut Gordon off, making obnoxious mocking noises as he tried to talk.

“You’re literally the most annoying person on the fucking planet.” Gordon said through amused laughter. “If Croc is so good, then—”

“ _Power critically low. Ten minutes remain. Please charge immediately._ ” A familiar mechanical voice interrupted. Bubby recognized it instantly—it was the voice used in the HEV suit. It came from Gordon’s prosthetic, rested comfortably on the table as he ate with his left hand.

Bubby hadn’t quite noticed that before—was Gordon really doing everything with his left hand now? That must have been a hell of a learning curve, he thought guiltily.

“Ah, fuck.” Gordon muttered. “I didn’t end up charging it last night.”

Bubby frowned uncomfortably as a few things came together in his head. First off, whatever sway he had in the game, he’d ultimately used it to hurt Gordon. Getting taken by soldiers was a scripted event, he was sure—but there was something about it, something about their presence that had caused him to suffer lifelong consequences. Second off, as proven by the other night, Gordon was still pissed about it.

He had every right to be, of course, Bubby thought as Gordon took his prosthetic off and headed upstairs. In the game, it was easier to set all that aside in order to get through to the final boss—but now, they had all the time in the world to really meditate on their mistakes. And the ways they were wronged. Bubby dropped his fork and sank down in his chair a little as Gordon returned without the prosthetic, sitting back down with a sigh. Bubby was tense all over, something negative stirring so harshly in his stomach, he almost could’ve thrown up right then and there. Gordon glanced up at Bubby.

“Hey, Bubby, you alright?” He asked.

That mysterious negative emotion spiked at Gordon’s attention on him. “I’m _fine._ ” Bubby replied through gritted teeth.

“Whoa. You sure?” Gordon pressed, setting his fork aside and reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Bubby tensed and brushed his hand away. “I said I’m _fine._ I don’t need you to coddle me.”

Gordon put his hand up defensively. “Okay, okay! I was just checking.”

They fell into a tense silence as Bubby started to contemplate just leaving. He wasn’t unfamiliar with this pattern in his behavior; he'd experienced this countless times over his years living in Black Mesa. He was feeling something extreme building up in him, threatening to blow up before he got the chance to regulate himself. Before he could gather his things up, though, Gordon spoke up again.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brow.

“I mean— _you’re_ the one angry with _me!_ ” Bubby blurted out, indicating at his arm. “What are you checking in with _me_ for? Why do you care?”

Gordon’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well...yeah, I guess I am still mad about that. But I mean—”

“Yeah, so what am I even here for?” Bubby demanded, standing up and gathering his boxes of food.

“I never said you had to be here! _You_ came here without me prompting.” Gordon argued. “Dude, I appreciate everything you did today and how you helped me out, but...I mean—listen, I feel like you’re jumping to conclusions or something, man. Maybe I’m mad, sure, but we’re still friends!”

“ _Why?_ ” Bubby questioned venomously. “Because I _have_ to be your friend, right? Because of the game? How we’re all NPCs, and you’re the _player_ , so we just drop everything for you, no questions asked?”

Clearly, Bubby had hit him where it hurt—he looked confused and mortified, staring back up at Bubby for a long, quiet moment.

“Dude, what?” Gordon finally asked. “I—...I never said any of that. You came with me, you fought Benry with me, you helped me clean my whole house today! I never told you you _had_ to do any of that, I...I assumed you did it because you cared.”

“What, so you’re free to have shit you’re pissed at me about without _talking_ to me, and I have to bend over backwards for you?” Bubby accused.

“Well—okay, yeah, we _did_ need to talk about the arm thing. Maybe it wasn’t best for me to bottle it up and then blow up at you, so...I’m sorry.” Gordon admitted. “But dude, to be fucking fair, I’ve kind of been processing so much lately, I just—we should talk about it, but I don’t even know what to say right now. And it shouldn’t be up to me to initiate that conversation for you! You could have fucking _apologized_ on your own without me sitting you down and coaxing it out of you! And like, you don’t _have_ to be bending over backwards for me! Again, like I said, I literally never asked for you to do any of this! You’ve been initiating all on your own! What do you fucking want from me?”

Bubby opened his mouth, then closed it, pausing for a long, tense moment. He had no idea what he could tell him he wanted. He’d already crossed so many lines and overblown things he’d only been vaguely concerned about, just for the sake of, what? Making Gordon feel bad? _Why?_ Why was he saying all of this? He thought, glancing down at his food. Without anything to say that made any semblance of sense, he was starting to feel backed into a corner—Gordon was right, of course he was right, but what could Bubby do now? He’d already fucked up. He fucked up ages ago, in the game, when he’d called with Benry for the military to take Gordon. There was nowhere for Bubby to go but down. He was certain of that.

“I’m not going to devote my fucking life to you just because you’re the player.” Bubby finally growled. “I did it all because that was what was expected of me. But you know what? I’m going home. Harold can come here and coddle you all day long, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Gordon frowned deeply at Bubby, looking somewhere between confused, furious, and heartbroken. “I-...I’m not the player.” He said quietly.

“What difference does it make?” Bubby demanded, turning towards the door. “Player, player character—it makes no difference to _me._ You are what you are. And if my life doesn’t have to revolve around you anymore, that’s fine by me.”

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Benry questioned from the table.

Bubby paused mid-step, glancing back at Benry for only a second before huffing and continuing towards the door. He struggled to get his shoes on and open the door with all the boxes of food in his arms, only to drop his own box all over the floor as soon as he got the door open. He hissed in frustration, leaving it behind and slamming the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bubby look out! your rsd!! oh god he can't hear me he's wearing headphones


	15. REPORT: Regarding D.Pepper and T.Coolatta's time babysitting

Darnold had to admit—maybe sitting around for a month had been eating away at his mental health more than he had cared to notice at the time. Watching Joshua was a big task, but it was something to _do_ , something that had a very clear goal and many rewards. He hadn’t known very many people with kids during his adult life, let alone any that would turn to him for babysitting, so it took them a brief adjustment period to find what worked. Joshua was an exceptionally picky eater, but giving him small portions of many hard set choices he could ask for more of at mealtimes seemed agreeable to him. He was incredibly high-energy, but tended to put his all into particular types of activities for hours at a time; video games were one draw, but Tommy had picked up a few different children’s science kits that he seemed to enjoy as well. He especially liked anything involving plants, so they let him attempt gardening in their backyard, which mostly just amounted to him digging a bunch of holes with Sunkist and burying random things.

It was a little exhausting, but fun; Darnold enjoyed the company of kids. Still, he _did_ tend to sigh in relief once Joshua was in bed; his high energy was hard to match sometimes. Darnold was knelt down beside Joshua’s bed, telling him extensively about potions in the hopes of boring him to sleep when Tommy appeared in the doorway. Josh didn’t seem to like falling asleep alone, after all—something Darnold couldn’t help but wonder about, given the fact that his dad had disappeared for some unidentifiable amount of time during the resonance cascade. Darnold glanced back at Joshua. He looked halfway asleep by now, so Darnold stood, giving him a brief affectionate pat on the shoulder.

“Goodnight, Josh.” Darnold said.

“Goodnight.” Joshua mumbled.

Darnold exited the room, closing the door gently behind him.

“What’s up?” Darnold whispered to Tommy.

“Oh, nothing. It was just—you were taking a while, so I thought I might see if, uhhh, if I could help.” Tommy muttered.

Darnold laughed slightly as they headed back downstairs. “Nahhh, I had it. He’s just shockingly interested in potions.”

Tommy snorted as they arrived in the living room, plopping down on the couch together. They were, as far as Darnold was aware of roommate etiquette, the appropriate distance from each other—each sat on either end of the couch, with more than enough space for a third person. Tommy picked up the remote, turning on a recording of the newest Invitation to Love episode they’d arranged to watch together. Darnold wasn’t necessarily a fan; it was the exact type of drama that really grated on his nerves. Tommy loved it, though, and actually had pretty interesting analysis to offer on the exact things Darnold hated about it, so it wasn’t a total loss of his time. Besides, any time spent with Tommy was never considered a waste in Darnold’s mind.

Once the episode was over, Darnold was ready to hear Tommy lovingly roast it like always, but when he turned to him expectantly, Tommy looked distracted.

“You alright?” Darnold asked gently.

“...Yeah.” Tommy muttered. “I’m just...thinking.”

“...About what?”

Tommy paused before turning to Darnold to give him a smile. “I think you’d make a really great dad.”

Darnold smiled back bashfully, heat rushing to his face. “O-oh—really? I mean, I don’t know.”

“To be honest, I was—umm...I was sorta nervous about watching Joshua.” Tommy went on, curling in on himself a little tighter as he looked back at the TV. “I was worried that, like...I wouldn’t really know what to do. But you do a really good job with kids.”

“You do a good job, too. You actually know what he’s talking about half the time.” Darnold pointed out with a laugh.

Tommy laughed too, leaning his head into his hand. “Did you ever—were you ever planning on having kids? Before the resonance cascade?”

Darnold’s smile fell just a little bit. “Well...yeah, I mean, it always ended up being a ‘when I find the right person’ kinda thing. But I never ended up dating anyone, and then I moved into the Black Mesa dorms...it just never really panned out.”

Tommy nodded, and they settled into a brief silence.

“...It’s been fun watching over Josh with you, though.” Darnold admitted shyly.

Tommy smiled. “Yeah! I don’t know if I could do this _all_ the time, but—I, uhh—I could see myself babysitting for Mr. Freeman whenever he needs.”

They fell into another comfortable silence, the TV automatically going back to the last channel they’d been on before they’d started up the recording. As always, the small part of Darnold’s mind that endlessly calculated a future with Tommy romantically began chugging away, weighing Darnold’s interest in having kids versus Tommy’s reluctance, but he did his best to quickly stamp that thought process down.

“...I wish I had this growing up.” Tommy murmured suddenly. “The group homes I grew up in weren’t all bad, it’s just...you know. Something like this could have saved me a lot of grief. And then—and to think, my dad could’ve provided me something like this this whole time...”

Darnold frowned. “...I’m sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy let out a small sigh, turning back to Darnold. “I-it’s okay, though. I guess I just, umm—I would wanna use my experiences to, like...help my friend do better for his kid. You know?”

Darnold nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Tommy and Darnold’s quiet time together soon came to an end, and the next morning, Darnold, Tommy, Joshua, and Sunkist were all sat in the living room sometime after breakfast when they heard a knock at the front door. Darnold stood first, immediately assuming it must have been Gordon. Instead, though, he found Dr. Coomer, greeting Darnold with a bright smile.

“Hello, Darnold!” He said. “How are you this morning?”

“Oh, hi. I’m doing good.” Darnold replied.

“Do you need any help with Joshua, perhaps?” Dr. Coomer asked, leaning over unsubtly to see into Darnold’s house.

Darnold stepped aside to let Dr. Coomer in. “Well, we’ve got things under control, but you’re welcome to stay.”

Dr. Coomer stepped in enthusiastically, and Darnold closed the door behind him.

“Have you seen Gordon already?” Darnold asked him as they headed to the living room.

Dr. Coomer maintained his smile, but there was a hint of evasiveness in his tone as he replied. “Oh, Bubby’s over at Gordon’s right now. I figured I’d drop by here instead to see how things were going.”

Darnold had half a mind to ask if Dr. Coomer was feeling well—he had heard he was having some trouble yesterday, after all—but decided to drop it, as Dr. Coomer appeared to be just fine. He greeted Joshua enthusiastically, scooping him up into his arms for a tight hug.

“How are you, Joshua?” Dr. Coomer asked as he eased himself down on the couch, Joshua in his lap.

“We’re watching Spongebob!” Joshua answered with a smile.

Dr. Coomer looked up at the TV, confirming they were indeed watching Spongebob.

“Oh, I do love cartoons!” Dr. Coomer chirped. “Tell me more about ‘Sponge Bob’.”

Joshua immediately began firing off on a long rant about Spongebob as Darnold sat back down. Once Joshua lost interest in describing the show to Dr. Coomer, he turned, settling in Dr. Coomer’s lap to keep watching in silence.

“How are you feeling today?” Tommy asked.

Dr. Coomer smiled. “Oh, I’m doing much better today. Thank you for your help yesterday, Tommy.”

“...Is umm...is Benry at your house?”

Dr. Coomer’s smile fell. “Oh, I—I entirely forgot. I’m sorry, Tommy, I don’t believe he is, unless he was hiding in our linens closet again. I can go check, if you’d like.”

Tommy shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m—I’m uhh, sure he’s just squatting somewhere again.”

“He has a cell phone, right?” Dr. Coomer asked, putting a strange emphasis on the words “cell phone”. He shifted his weight a little bit to pull out his phone. “We could always try sending him a text message!”

“I would...feel weird texting him...” Tommy muttered, looking pointedly at Dr. Coomer’s phone.

Dr. Coomer flipped his open, holding it out in one hand while he used his other hand to jab at the buttons with his index finger. Darnold tried not to look too amused by it.

“I don’t believe I have his phone number...” Dr. Coomer said.

Tommy gave Dr. Coomer his phone number, hovering over his shoulder a little as Dr. Coomer began trying to draft a text message. Tommy leaned in close, giving Dr. Coomer pointers on how to text properly, but ended up taking the phone entirely from him as Dr. Coomer dictated to Tommy what he wanted to say.

“Now, I would like it to say...‘Hello, Benry! This is Harold. Tommy gave me your cell phone number.’ And put a smiley face there, if you can.” Dr. Coomer said.

Tommy typed the message expertly within a manner of seconds. Once he was done, his finger hovered over the send button, pulling away and turning back to Dr. Coomer. “Ummm...anything else?”

“Yes, say...‘I wanted to check in and see how you were doing. We’re not quite sure where you are at the moment, but you’re always welcome to stay with me and Bubby if you need.’ And I’d like another smiley there, please. Then, ‘Love, Harold.’”

Tommy smiled. “You don’t need to put, uhhh—you don’t need to put a valediction in a text, Dr. Coomer.”

Dr. Coomer frowned, distress clear on his face. “But I want to!”

“Okay, I’ll put it in.” Tommy said with a small laugh, taking a moment to finish texting. His smile fell when it came time to send the message, thumb hovering over the send button. “Ummm...h-here.” He muttered, pushing the phone back into Dr. Coomer’s hand.

Tommy closed his eyes and curled up on the couch as Dr. Coomer hit the button for him. Once the message was sent, Dr. Coomer reached to Tommy, pulling him into a side hug. Tommy sighed, relaxing against Dr. Coomer.

“It’ll be alright, Tommy.” Dr. Coomer said reassuringly.

Tommy nodded. “...Yeah. I just feel so...complicated about it.”

“I know.” Dr. Coomer replied gently. “You invested a lot of your time and energy into him—that’s not easy to let go of. But if he’s not listening to you, I understand that you need some time away from him.”

Tommy sighed again deeply, turning and settling to lean his back against Dr. Coomer. Darnold smiled at them, hoping they wouldn’t notice. He sympathized with Tommy for having a hard time over putting his foot down with Benry, but the sight of him and Dr. Coomer clearly being so close was nice; he’d heard a little bit about what happened with the Nihilanth project, but he didn’t know too much about Tommy’s friendship with Dr. Coomer and Bubby. Clearly, though, they’d been through a lot together already—they all had, in fact. Darnold wondered not for the first time if he would be this close with them, if he had decided to go with Gordon after all.

They all sat together peacefully, quickly moving on to sit out in the backyard and watch Joshua play with Sunkist. Darnold had been a little nervous at first about such a massive dog with a small child, but Sunkist was well-behaved as always, perhaps even alarmingly aware of what Joshua should or shouldn’t be doing. She was barking orbs of sweet voice eagerly at Joshua, trotting leisurely behind him as he ran in circles around the yard. Everyone looked up curiously as the fence gate was pushed open with a creak by none other than Bubby, slouched over with a grouchy expression on his face.

“There you are, Harold.” Bubby sighed, closing the gate behind him. “I thought you were staying home.”

“That’s what _you_ decided.” Dr. Coomer pointed out. “How is Gordon?”

Bubby reached under his glasses to rub his eyes exhaustedly. “...There were some ups and downs.” He settled to say, plopping down in the empty lawnchair beside Dr. Coomer.

Dr. Coomer pulled Bubby’s chair closer to him, Bubby gripping the sides to steady himself as it moved, so he could drape an arm over his shoulders. Bubby glanced at Darnold and Tommy, crossing his arms with a huff.

“He’s okay with Benry now, though, I guess. Sort of.” Bubby went on.

“What? Really?” Tommy asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I have no idea _why_ , I didn’t ask. But I walked in this morning, and they were just _hanging out_.”

“That’s...that’s good.” Tommy said, staring down at the concrete at his feet. He didn’t sound too enthusiastic about it, Darnold noted with a frown.

“I made that list of therapists for him, at least, but I didn’t get the chance to try and talk to him about it.” Bubby continued, pushing his glasses up on his face. “We got his house cleaned up and most of his things unpacked. That’s about it.”

“That’s a very good start!” Dr. Coomer said with a smile. “We can discuss his therapy options tomorrow.”

Bubby frowned, looking away. “You’re going to have to do that yourself, Harold. Sorry.”

“Why’s that?”

“...I just...probably shouldn’t be there tomorrow.” Bubby glanced up at Darnold and Tommy again, then looked down into his lap uncomfortably. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Bubby, I thought I told you to be nice.” Dr. Coomer said, but his tone was gentle as he pulled Bubby in a little closer.

“That’s _your_ thing.” Bubby grumbled.

“Bubby!” Joshua shouted enthusiastically, breaking away from Sunkist to jump on the lawn chair Bubby was sat on. Bubby tensed as Joshua sat himself in his lap, arms hovering over Joshua like he was afraid he’d break him if he touched him. “Do the fire!”

Bubby grimaced. “No, Gordon got _really_ mad the last time I did that around you.”

“ _Please?_ ”

Bubby hummed uncomfortably. “Ohhh...fine. Just go sit with Harold.”

Bubby nudged Joshua gently over to Dr. Coomer’s lap, then sat up, scooting his chair away a little bit.

“Hold on—the _fire?_ ” Darnold asked nervously. “You’re not gonna—”

Bubby already had his fingers to his temples, though, and in a flash, he had a controlled flame in his other palm. He then took a deep breath, held the flame up to his face, and blew on it, giving him the appearance of breathing out a massive flame. Joshua clapped enthusiastically as Darnold clutched his chest, watching the flames go dangerously close to the roof.

“Excellent form, Bubby!” Dr. Coomer chirped.

“ _Please_ don’t do that in our backyard!” Darnold shouted.

“Oh, a little fire never hurt anyone.” Bubby retorted, leaning back comfortably in his lawn chair.

“Yes it has! It _absolutely_ has!!”

A good portion of their afternoon was spent together after that, Joshua greatly enjoying the company of Bubby and Dr. Coomer. Aside from Bubby’s lack of restraint with his pyrokinesis, it was nice; Darnold only wished Gordon would be there. Darnold was sure he would’ve loved to see some of the fun things his son was getting up to. Well, it was only a week, Darnold reassured himself—Gordon would get himself back on his feet, and then they had the rest of their lives to have more times like this.

Well, except for the fact that Darnold was fairly certain he was going to need to find something else to occupy his time after he was done watching Joshua. Maybe a different job, maybe some sort of volunteer thing—going back to life as it was before was going to be very, _very_ boring.

Everyone looked up curiously as they heard several hard knocks on the door, with long pauses between each knock. Darnold hadn’t heard Gordon’s typical method of knocking, but something about this didn’t quite seem like him. Tommy was already on his feet this time, leaving Darnold alone with Dr. Coomer, Bubby, and Joshua.

“How have you been doing, Darnold?” Dr. Coomer asked, filling the awkward silence that ensued.

“Oh, I’m good.” Darnold replied. “It’s been really cool living here. I’m glad I moved in with Tommy, otherwise I’d probably just be...y’know, hiding out in my own place doing nothing.”

“That’s great! I’m happy to have you here.” Dr. Coomer said with a smile.

Darnold smiled back shyly. “Oh! Th-thank you. That’s really nice. Yeah, it’s—I’m glad that like, I get to hang out with you guys.”

“Say, I do recall you saying that you were interested in boxing.” Dr. Coomer said, a hopeful, excited look on his face. “I happen to _love_ boxing!”

“Oh, yeah! I remember I took a few lessons when I was younger, but I never really got too into it. I always wished I stuck with it, though.” Darnold admitted. “I could pick up a new pair of gloves sometime.”

Dr. Coomer grinned, punching Darnold’s arm—it was playful, but it _was_ a bit harder than he’d probably intended. Either that, or Darnold was just softer than he thought he was. “Darnold, I think we’re going to get along _very_ well.”

“Just don’t let him get in the habit of breaking the rules with you.” Bubby said, crossing his arms and leaning back on the couch. “He _knows_ he can’t win against me, so he always puts me in a headlock before I can win.”

“No, I do it because you make it so easy!” Dr. Coomer retorted, immediately hooking his arm around his neck and dragging him into a headlock. “Also, because I think it’s fun.”

“Let me go, you ass!” Bubby barked, wriggling in Dr. Coomer’s grip.

Dr. Coomer leaned down to give Bubby an affectionate kiss on the head before letting him go. Bubby huffed, looking thoroughly embarrassed as he leaned back on the couch again.

“I have to say, I’m quite happy to see that you and Tommy get along so well as roommates.” Dr. Coomer said as he settled back down. “I think he found living alone in the dorms to be rather lonely.”

“Oh, yeah, me too.” Darnold sighed. “I mean, I definitely didn’t see it that way back then, but living with Tommy has been _really_ nice. I like him a lot.”

Dr. Coomer rested his chin in his hand, beaming at Darnold. “You do?”

Darnold’s face felt hot as he avoided Dr. Coomer’s gaze. “Well—yes, that’s a normal thing to say. There’s nothing not normal about it.”

“Oh, of course it’s normal.” Dr. Coomer replied knowingly.

“I mean—I meant that as in, like, I’m—you know. He’s...a good roommate.” Darnold babbled nervously.

Bubby kicked Dr. Coomer, not too gently. “Quit embarrassing him, Harold, let them sort it out on their own.”

“I would _never_ embarrass a cherished friend over such matters.” Dr. Coomer said far too dramatically, putting hand to his chest as though he was offended.

“Oh, yeah, like you didn’t do this with Percy and Van from boxing club.” Bubby said sarcastically.

“To be fair, neither of them were going to do _anything_ if I stayed quiet.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true, but come on.”

Darnold hoped they would slip into some long banter about their backstory, but Dr. Coomer turned back to Darnold.

“Take it from me, Darnold. As a man who spent far too long unable to be with the one I love, I think it’s best for you to seize the moment and say something to Tommy if you’re interested.” Dr. Coomer said, placing a friendly hand on Darnold’s shoulder.

“Wh—is it really _that_ obvious?” Darnold asked in dismay. “I thought I was being subtle.”

“Well, usually, until Tommy makes some move and then you fall apart.” Bubby pointed out.

Darnold groaned, burying his face in his hands in embarrassment.

“I think you two would be _very_ cute together.” Dr. Coomer said encouragingly.

“Yeah, but like, I don’t wanna make it weird if he doesn’t feel the same way. We _live_ together.” Darnold pointed out.

“So what if it gets weird? You’ll get over it.” Bubby said dismissively.

“Yes, you and Tommy are very rational people, I think you could handle it if anything becomes awkward. But I don’t think it’ll necessarily come to that.” Dr. Coomer said. “Trust me, if you face him head-on and just tell him how you feel, I think it’ll turn out well.”

“...Is that what you guys did?” Darnold asked.

“Well...yes, I did initially, but our history isn’t a particularly good example.” Dr. Coomer said with a small laugh. “That feels like so long ago, now.”

“That’s because it _was._ ” Bubby chimed in. “And don’t go telling everyone about our backstory, I’ll kill you.”

“Bubby caught on fire when I told him I liked him!” Dr. Coomer said with a fond smile. “It was very cute.”

“Shut up!” Bubby growled, kicking Dr. Coomer again.

“But we _couldn’t_ be together until after the fall of Black Mesa.” Dr. Coomer said, his tone suddenly much more serious. “You have a long, incredible life ahead of you! There’s nothing standing in your way except your own inhibitions. Don’t let them overtake you, Darnold. I believe you and Tommy could have a very fulfilling life together, and you shouldn’t have to wait even a second longer.”

“I—that’s all _very_ nice and inspirational, Dr. Coomer, but...I don’t know if I’m ready for any of that.” Darnold said nervously. “I’ll...I’ll, uh, let things settle down a little first, and then see how I feel.”

“Oh, alright. I suppose that’s reasonable.” Dr. Coomer sighed.

Darnold couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, if I ever need your help with Tommy, I’ll know to come to you.”

****

All things considered, despite that stressful moment in indirectly texting Benry, Tommy was chalking his day up as pretty good. He always enjoyed having Dr. Coomer and Bubby over—though he wished he could spend his time with _all_ his friends at once—and Joshua and Darnold seemed happy, so it was good. He liked seeing his friends in high spirits, despite the circumstances. Maybe now, considering Benry and Gordon were apparently cool with each other, the two of them could sort their shit out and they could all finally just live in peace for once.

Tommy was thoroughly enjoying listening to Dr. Coomer and Bubby discuss a show they were currently watching when there was a knock at the door. It was a strange knock, but he hoped against all odds it might be Gordon, so he stood enthusiastically to answer it; but the man he found at the door was decidedly _not_ Gordon.

Tommy still didn’t want to dignify him with calling him “Dad”, but he had nothing else to call him, so he just stared at him wordlessly.

“Hello, Tommy.” The man greeted politely. He wore the same suit as always, as well as the same inscrutable expression. “It’s good to see you. Have you been...enjoying, your new home?”

“...Yeah.”

“It’s very good to, hear that, Tommy. Have you, perhaps, been feeling any sort of...desire, to, branch out?” The man asked. “You _have_ been, exercising your powers, yes?”

Tommy paused. “Branch out?”

“Yes, Tommy. You were, quite fascinated with—inter-dimensional matters...in your time at Black Mesa, after all.” The man explained vaguely. “Your research on what... _resulted_ from the Nihilanth was, most, impressive. You possess the, powers and intellect bestowed upon me, as well as the rather...tenacious qualities of a human. Your talents would be, quite valued by my, employers.”

Tommy frowned deeply. “Is this...more nepotism? Because—you know, thinking back on, uhhh, getting my job at Black Mesa...I wish I’d known that was what was happening.”

“In my line of work, Tommy—in the world from which your bloodline stems—nepotism isn’t, quite so much an issue.” The man said, shaking his head. “Nudging you towards, Black Mesa, was a necessary action. In fact, it was the _only_ action, I could have taken.”

Tommy pressed his lips into a thin line, shoving his hands into his pockets uncomfortably. “Well...I don’t know anything about, like, my bloodline or where you—where you come from. I grew up _here._ On Earth. With—with no help from you or anything.”

“I _was_ helping, Tommy. I helped...where I could.” The man said, somewhat defensively. “I thought that I, explained to you, that I have—intergalactic matters to tend to.”

“Then why did you even bother having a kid?” Tommy asked accusingly. “And—and—for that matter, who’s my other parent?”

The man frowned deeply. “...That information is, as things go, not relevant to matters at hand.” He said. “As such...I am not aware of who your other, parent, would have been.”

“Wh—but—of course it’s relevant!” Tommy argued. “I mean...at least...it feels like—it feels like that would be important for me to know!”

“I understand your...frustration, Tommy.” The man said, the faintest hint of sympathy managing to worm its way into his tone. “As it is, though, I am here, now. And I think it is, high time, you got to know...my occupation.”

Tommy crossed his arms. “...I’m not interested.”

“Trust me. Familiarizing yourself with my, influences, on the world will be...highly...beneficial to you.” The man insisted.

“...How?”

“You’re curious about...Benry, aren’t you? And the world, we, currently reside in?”

Tommy looked away, biting his lip as he thought. He _was_ curious. But at the same time, he was beginning to wonder how much that mattered. Benry, regardless of _what_ he was and how he came to be, was still just as capable of good or bad as anyone else—his origin didn’t mean anything when it came to him simply being an asshole. Plus, he’d already made peace with the fact that his reality may not be _truly_ real more times than he could count. All Tommy wanted was a safe place for his friends, and he already had that; so why throw anything complicated into the mix?

“...Not really.” Tommy finally muttered.

The man seemed surprised by this answer, widening his eyes just a little at Tommy. “I thought...you would like to, spend time with your father, though. Is that not what you wanted?”

“Yeah, I _wanted_ that! When I was a _kid!_ ” Tommy snapped. “This isn’t _Elf!_ I’m 37 now, and you never—you never bothered to actually take care of me, and now I’m already an adult! It’s too—it’s _way_ too late for that now. You’re not—...how could I even consider you my dad at this point?”

“I _am_ your father, though, that is...an irrefutable, fact.” The man said, a tinge of dismay in his voice. “And Tommy, 37 is, _very_ young for us. I have been alive, for...hundreds of years, now.”

That, on top of everything else, was too much for Tommy to process at this point. He unfolded his arms to put a hand on the door. “...I already have a family. I don’t need you.” He said decisively.

The man pressed his palm to the door to keep Tommy from closing it. “Tommy. I think it would be, very, beneficial for you to join me now.”

“...You haven’t exactly made a good case.”

“It would be...unwise, for me to make any promises on the exact...significance of my work, after the end of the game.” The man said evasively. “But I _do_ know that it is going to be critical. And, provided your, experiences, your assistance could be...vital.”

Tommy glanced behind him, where he knew his friends were sitting nearby. “...I don’t think I, uhh, wanna to get myself...involved in anything if I don’t have to. If you can—if you can give me exact reasons why you need me, _then_ I’d hear you out. But...I sorta just wanna enjoy my life for now.”

The man finally withdrew his hand from the door. “I suppose...that is a fair line to draw. Enjoy your life, Tommy.”

As the man began to turn around, Tommy frowned, stepping forward just a little bit. “Wait. Can I ask you one more thing?”

The man turned back to Tommy curiously.

“I’m _not_ gonna call you my dad.” Tommy said sternly. “So...what’s your name?”

“...If you must...then I am commonly referred to as, ‘the G-Man’.”

“...Huh?”

“Goodbye, Tommy.”

Tommy blinked once, and suddenly, the man was gone.


	16. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman's recovery from the resonance cascade (pt.3)

Gordon hadn’t intended to take a particularly long nap. He’d even set an alarm, trying to only sleep for one hour before getting back up in the hopes of getting off his nocturnal sleep schedule—instead, he woke up again at 9pm.

Gordon groaned. His head was pounding and his stomach rolled with nausea; trying to get back to sleep would feel a lot better than trying to get up and do anything like this, if it weren’t for how inhumanly sweaty he was. He dragged himself out of bed, immediately heading for the shower.

He felt _really_ awful, he assessed as he sat on the toilet cover, holding his head in his hands while he waited for the water to heat up. This was, as far as things went, perhaps the first hangover he could distinctly remember having—but he didn’t get the impression they were supposed to be _this_ bad. Standing left him practically wheezing, every joint in his body screamed in protest when he moved, and his chest ached in that way he was fairly certain you get when you have the flu, that deep ache that makes you feel like you’re dying. He didn’t usually hear _those_ as the stereotypical experiences of a hangover.

Not confident in his ability to stand for the duration of a shower, Gordon opted for a bath instead, which eased the pain in his joints a little, at least. Once he was done, he trudged back to his bed and climbed in half-heartedly, just laying there on top of his blankets until he fell asleep again.

By the time he woke back up, it was 3 in the morning. He was starting to feel marginally better, at least; enough to grow restless just laying in bed. He rolled clumsily off the edge of the bed—having to sit back down for a moment when he grew light headed—then finally unplugged his prosthetic to fit it snugly back over his arm. After the press of a button, it came to life, immediately beginning to talk at him like always.

“ _Welcome to the Black Mesa electronic prosthesis. Battery is at 100%. Eight hours of use remain. Have a very safe day._ ”

He _really_ wished he knew how to mute it. He sighed, ready to head downstairs, only to freeze as he heard a sound that was very much not normal. The highly distinct chirping of a headcrab echoed, reverberating off the walls in a way that didn’t feel natural to the acoustics of his bedroom. Gordon scooped up his hammer off the nighstand, running for the light to throw it on. He didn’t _see_ anything. Under the bed, maybe? But if he tried to check, he might as well have been giving the little bastard his head on a silver platter.

Gordon heard it again. He let out a surprised yelp, trying to back out of the room and throw his door closed to trap it inside, but his heel caught on something—a box he hadn’t moved out of the way—and he fell hard to the floor. He scrambled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him as he backed up against the wall opposite of his bedroom door with his hammer clutched tightly in his hands.

“Hey.”

Gordon shrieked, instinctively swinging his hammer towards a figure stood to the side of him suddenly. Benry backed away, eyes wide as he held his hands up.

“Yo, it’s just me.” Benry said, keeping himself at a healthy distance. “Heard you fall ‘n everything. You good?”

Gordon wheezed, backing up against another wall and sliding down it to sit on the floor. He set the hammer aside, burying his face in his hands. His heart was still racing, but not nearly as much anymore—two parts of his brain began nagging at him, arguing two different points. One, the headcrab was real, and needed to be dealt with. Two, it was just a hallucination, and he should go back to sleep.

Okay, Gordon thought. Think it through. What would a headcrab be doing in his bedroom? As far as they were aware, the aliens had only appeared around Black Mesa. Nobody else knew about alien contact on Earth or what happened in Black Mesa, hence the confidentiality agreement. If a headcrab had been teleported into his bedroom, there’d probably be a lot more fanfare, too—aliens teleported through some bright flash of green light. Gordon let out a deep breath.

“It’s—...nothing.” Gordon finally said, trying to stand shakily.

Benry approached, and Gordon couldn’t help but flinch. Benry paused before holding out his hand. Gordon stared down at it for a long few seconds before taking it, and Benry pulled him up to his feet with ease.

“Thanks.” Gordon muttered sheepishly.

“You hearing shit?” Benry asked suddenly.

“...What, like, right now?”

“No, no, like, in general.”

Gordon frowned. As much as he hated to admit it, it wasn’t just this; after the game, Gordon had been hearing plenty of things other people didn’t seem to hear. He always brushed it off, but maybe it was time to just admit it.

“Yeah.” He said, averting his eyes. “I guess...I’ve been hallucinating a lot.”

Benry nodded. “...Sucks.”

Gordon couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe Dr. Coomer would have some more significantly comforting words for him—he usually knew at least on some level what to say, but Gordon wasn’t too sure if he was in the mood to hear anything inspirational. Sometimes, just a completely level, _that sucks_ was all Gordon wanted to hear.

“It _does_ suck. Thanks.” Gordon replied, completely earnestly.

The two of them headed downstairs, Benry going right past his game to walk into the kitchen. Gordon followed, sitting down at one of the barstools and resting his head in his hands, intent to watch Benry start whatever weird “cooking” process he had chosen to run with. Like trying to boil plain white bread and getting confused when the result wasn’t edible. Instead, though, Benry used Gordon’s stereo setup to start playing some of his fucking _horrific_ music and rolled up his hoodie sleeves, starting to unload the dishwasher. Gordon stared at him.

“...What are you doing?” Gordon asked over the noise.

“Huh?”

“What are you doing?” Gordon repeated.

Benry stared right back at Gordon with a stack of plates in his hands. “...Wha...?”

“The dishes, dude.”

“...Yeah, I’m doing ‘em.”

Gordon just kept staring at him. “What? What’s your angle here? Are you about to try and use this to like—I dunno, butter me up before you tell me you broke my fucking washing machine or something?”

Benry furrowed his brow as he put the stack of plates away. “No? We’re like—we’re buds, right? You’re letting me stay here, so...”

“...Yeah, but—...” Gordon paused before letting out an uneasy laugh. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just weird to see you doing normal shit, sorry. Uhh...thanks, man. Also—you didn’t even ask if you could stay here, you just _are._ ”

Benry stopped for a long second. “... _Can_ I?”

“...Umm...yeah. Sure.”

Benry just nodded and got back to work. Eventually, Benry finished that, and they headed to the living room, where Benry flopped down sideways in the armchair to continue his game of Halo as Gordon sat down in his usual spot on the couch.

“I thought you left yesterday.” Gordon pointed out.

“I just grabbed some snacks.” Benry said, reaching over the other side of the armchair to pull up a plastic grocery bag. “I got...soda, some Twix, Cheetos, Windex...y’know. That kinda thing.”

“Benry, do _not_ tell me you think Windex is a snack.”

“...Whuh?”

Gordon tried not to laugh, but a snort escaped anyway. “Dude, Windex is for cleaning windows. Don’t drink that shit, it’ll kill you.”

“I don’t drink it, man, you think there’s something wrong with me?” Benry asked, pulling out a half-empty bottle of Windex and unscrewing the top, looking Gordon right in the eye and taking a swig.

“You’re drinking it right now!” Gordon shouted, pointing at the bottle.

Benry shrugged with a barely-concealed grin on his face, screwing the top back on and tossing the bottle to the floor carelessly. “You wanna play?”

“...Yeah, sure, I guess.”

Gordon picked up a controller and settled back down on the couch. Maybe he had just been much too lonely before everything went to shit at dinner with everyone—he _had_ been isolating quite a bit, and as much as he loved Joshua, a man can only talk so much about cashews and cowboys before he starts to wish he had an adult to talk to—but despite everything, he was sort of finding it alright to have Benry in his house. Not that he was ready to let go of everything that he’d done in the game by any means, but while he got his shit together, he at least didn’t _hate_ the company. Tommy and Darnold were a “friendly” unit, so they were a package deal. Then, Bubby apparently hated Gordon for some reason, and Dr. Coomer was already practically married to Bubby, so obviously he’d side with him—while Benry was just Benry. It was, despite the odds, quiet. And Benry didn’t really expect anything out of him, either; he was just there, not making Gordon feel particularly bad about the way he was living after the game. Which, of course, wasn’t _totally_ fair to think—he knew his friends were just trying to help, and he appreciated that immensely—but he couldn’t help but appreciate the mutual understanding they’d settled into.

Gordon still found it annoying as hell that _Benry_ was his best choice to hang out with after everything. But at least he didn’t have to be alone in his house.

They played games together for the next few hours, Gordon easily losing track of time now that he was getting pretty good at using a controller again. The next thing he knew, he was jolted back to the real world by a knock on the back door. Gordon looked up, squinting his eyes against the light streaming in through the sliding glass door, seeing Dr. Coomer standing patiently outside. Gordon stood, unlocking it to slide it open for him.

“Hello, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer greeted. “May I come in?”

Gordon stepped aside, allowing Dr. Coomer in. “Hey, Coomer.”

“How are you feeling today, Gordon?” Dr. Coomer asked kindly as Gordon slid the door shut behind him, making sure to lock it.

“I’m...you know.” Gordon replied vaguely. “I’m guessing you’re here to make sure I get shit together, right?”

Dr. Coomer smiled sympathetically at him, giving him a friendly pat on the arm. “Yes, but I hope you understand it’s not out of mistrust. I’m here because I care about you, and I want to see you recover from the game.”

Gordon smiled, a little exhaustedly. After yesterday with Bubby, it was _really_ nice to hear Dr. Coomer’s reassuring voice. “Thanks, Dr. Coomer.”

Dr. Coomer stepped further inside, looking to Benry. “Hello, Benry! Did you receive my text message yesterday?”

“Huh?” Benry muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. “Oh. Nah, phone died.”

“Well, it’s hardly relevant anymore.” Dr. Coomer said dismissively. “Tommy was worried. We didn’t know where you’d chosen to go, but I see you and Gordon have been getting along.”

Benry nodded, while Gordon made a non-committal noise as he shrugged.

“Now, have you eaten breakfast?” Dr. Coomer asked the both of them.

“Yeah, bro.” Benry replied, holding up the mostly eaten bag of Twix.

“...I had...Cheetos.” Gordon replied sheepishly.

“I’ll go make some breakfast.” Dr. Coomer announced, heading off to the kitchen.

“Dr. Coomer, you don’t have to—” Gordon tried to say, but he was already gone, making a ruckus in the kitchen.

Gordon sighed and sat down, taking the remote to switch the TV back to cable, which earned an annoyed grunt from Benry. They sat in relative silence, watching some shitty kid’s movie that Gordon wasn’t paying too much attention to until Dr. Coomer called them into the kitchen. Gordon plopped down at the table, frowning in embarrassment as he quietly ate his breakfast. He was a grown man, Gordon thought—he could feed himself.

Except, to be fair, he simply _hadn’t_ fed himself. It was easier to stay on top of that with Joshua around, he thought; the whole song and dance of snacks and mealtimes always ensured Gordon never forgot or got particularly lazy about it. Without him, it was way too easy to slip into bad habits. Benry, on the other hand, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself—Gordon suspected he’d probably be chattering away, if it weren’t for how busy he was eating.

“Now, Gordon, I’m here to help you as much as you need with anything, zero judgment.” Dr. Coomer said as Gordon finished off his food. “If you need help arranging anything, or maybe you’d like to talk about something, I’d be happy to do anything you need me to.”

Gordon let out a deep sigh, leaning his head into his palm. “...Can I ask you about Bubby?”

Dr. Coomer nodded. “Of course, Gordon.”

“Should I have...talked to him about the arm thing sooner?” Gordon asked carefully. “Like, was it unfair of me to put that off? I felt like I had a right to just leave that be for a bit, but like...I guess I ended up blowing up at him.”

“Oh, no, Gordon! I think it’s absolutely in your right to allow yourself the time to figure out how you feel about that.” Dr. Coomer said reassuringly. “I’m certain Bubby understands, too. He may not show it in the most outright of ways sometimes, but he _does_ care just as deeply for you as I do.”

Gordon stopped for a moment. “Did he not tell you what happened yesterday?”

Dr. Coomer slowly shook his head.

“He just—he got really weird and angry yesterday out of nowhere.” Gordon said, leaning back uncomfortably and crossing his arms. “He seemed kind of upset suddenly, so I asked him what was wrong, and...he said shit that was like, calling me selfish because I want him to be my friend?”

Dr. Coomer took a long pause to consider this, looking down at the table with a furrowed brow before looking back up at Gordon with concerned eyes. “What? He said that?”

“Pretty much? I mean—it happened so fast, and it came out of _nowhere_ , I almost feel like I must’ve been misinterpreting something.” Gordon admitted. “He said, like, it was unfair that I didn’t come to him about being mad, but I was...‘expecting’ him to bend over backwards for me. I never _said_ I expected that out of him, but—maybe I was, like, acting entitled without realizing? I don’t know. It just...it really hurt.”

“Oh, dear, Gordon. That’s terrible! You’ve never acted entitled to our time spent with you. He was the one who insisted on visiting you yesterday!” Dr. Coomer said, placing a comforting hand on Gordon’s arm. “I’m very, _very_ sorry he said all that. I’ll talk to him when I go home.”

“No, I don’t want this to be like—I told on him to his boyfriend or whatever.” Gordon muttered dismissively. “If he doesn’t wanna be friends with me, that’s...sad, but I guess it’s his choice. I just wish he hadn’t _yelled_ at me over it.”

“Gordon, you are a very dear and close friend to me. This is a matter I’m going to take very seriously.” Dr. Coomer insisted. “He has no reason to be taking things out on you like that, and as his partner, it’s important that I make it very clear to him I consider it unacceptable.”

Gordon sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. I’m just confused is all.”

“To be honest, I’m not quite sure where that’s coming from, either.” Dr. Coomer replied. “It’s upsetting to hear that he would resort to saying such cruel things, rather than coming to me about his concerns...”

“...Yeah, I don’t know. I guess I should just focus on getting my shit together for now.” Gordon went on, brushing his hair out of his face. “I’m not...really sure where to start, though. What do _you_ think I should do?”

“...Perhaps we could start with finding you a therapist.” Dr. Coomer suggested gently. “Bubby told me he left you a list of suggestions on your computer.”

Gordon frowned uneasily. “...I don’t know. What’s a therapist gonna be able to do? If I go in and tell them I nearly died several times, what do you even _say_ about that? ‘That’s rough, buddy’?”

“Well, Gordon, if you broke your arm, a doctor’s job isn’t to handle how you could have avoided it in the first place. It’s to reset the bone and help it heal properly.” Dr. Coomer explained. The way he said it, Gordon got the impression this spiel was well-practiced. “It’s the same with a therapist—you’re experiencing trauma after the game, and that’s something that needs to be worked at and treated with care in order to get better, just the same as if you had a broken arm.”

Gordon nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense. But I mean—all of it was so fucking ridiculous, are they even gonna believe me?”

“With the extensive process of getting approved to see a therapist without breaking NDA, I think your therapist will understand.” Dr. Coomer said reassuringly. “Would you please at least try it? If you don’t like it, you can back out, and I won’t judge you. I just think it would be helpful.”

Gordon let out a deep, exhausted sigh. “...Okay. I’ll try it.” After a pause, Gordon looked at Dr. Coomer carefully. “Are _you_ going to therapy?”

Dr. Coomer looked surprised. “Hm? I’m not, no.”

“I mean, you’re talking a big game about it, don’t you think it could be useful to you, too?” Gordon asked.

“Oh, I’m doing fine, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer insisted casually. “I appreciate the concern, but I really don’t have a need for it.”

“Are you sure, man? We went through some crazy shit.” Gordon pointed out. “I guess I just—I feel bad, I haven’t really had the chance to check on _you_ guys after everything. Now you’re all focused on me, but I mean, you’re probably suffering just as much as me, aren’t you?”

Dr. Coomer shook his head. “Well, you know, it’s been a little up and down the past month, but I’ve suffered through worse before in my life. I’ll be alright. Focus on yourself first before you start worrying about me. You can’t very well help your friends if you’re running yourself into the ground.”

“...Alright, man, but make sure you’re taking your own advice too, okay?”

Dr. Coomer smiled. “Of course! Thank you, Gordon.”

Gordon stood, stretching out his still aching joints. Now that he’d eaten, he felt a little more vital, but he still felt excessively exhausted; maybe it was just his shitty sleep schedule, he thought. “I’m gonna head on up and look for the therapist. I, uhhh...I think I’d rather do that on my own, if that’s okay.”

“Okay! I’ll still be here if you need me.” Dr. Coomer replied.

Gordon thanked Dr. Coomer for the breakfast, then headed upstairs to the privacy of his bedroom. He sat down on the edge of his bed, simply staring at his closed laptop on top of his dresser for a little bit until he finally worked up the motivation to pick it up and find that list Bubby had left him. There was a word document left on his desktop, titled “GORDON LOOK AT THIS”. Definitely Bubby’s work, Gordon thought.

In the document, Gordon found a short list of therapists to go through, as promised (everything typed out in caps). Bubby had left phone numbers, addresses, and websites when available, as well as thorough instructions on how to get a therapist approved. Gordon scanned down the list. Most places either had really pretentious or patronizing names that immediately turned him off, like “Happy Hearts Counseling” or “Transformative Healing”—once he narrowed it down to places with _not_ terrible names, the search narrowed down even further to find someone who had a specific focus on trauma. There was one that included “combat trauma”; did having to fight a bunch of soldiers inside a video game count? He wondered. Well, it was worth trying, because that seemed like the closest thing he was going to get to someone specializing in what he’d gone through.

It took a little bit of back and forth, calling the number to get a therapist approved versus the reception for the therapist’s office, but eventually, he was assured that everything was going to get settled, and he had an appointment in the following week.

Gordon let out a deep sigh once he was done, closing his laptop and heading back downstairs. Dr. Coomer was still there, watching Benry play the single player campaign of Halo; Benry’s character was currently clipped inside a wall, jittering and making obnoxious collision sound effects.

“You should really get a job as QA somewhere.” Gordon commented as he sat down beside Dr. Coomer.

“Nah, man, then they’ll just fix it.”

“How did your search go?” Dr. Coomer asked.

“I got an appointment coming up next week.” Gordon replied, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Excellent! I’m very proud of you, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer said with a smile, squeezing Gordon’s shoulder.

Gordon smiled. Receiving encouragement from Dr. Coomer after everything was exactly what he needed, he thought; he was lucky to have such a good friend. “...Thanks, Dr. Coomer.”

“Is there anything else you think you could do now that would help you?”

Gordon paused, thinking back to what Darnold had told him when he and Tommy came for Joshua. “Ummm...I think Darnold mentioned getting Joshua into preschool, but...I haven’t decided on that yet. Like, one of the big draws to not having to work anymore was being able to homeschool him instead.”

Dr. Coomer nodded knowingly. “Yes, the failings of the education system are certainly important to be weighed. But being completely honest, do you think, if you had to start _right now_ , you would have the energy needed to homeschool him?”

Gordon wanted to say yes on impulse, but he stopped when he met Dr. Coomer’s scrutinizing gaze. He took a long pause to consider it. He _had_ just been sort of sitting him down with some distracting activity so he could sit there on the couch with very little input. That was probably a bad sign, right?

“...I guess not.” Gordon finally answered honestly.

“Plus, Gordon, you do also need to consider proper socialization for him with kids his own age, especially considering he’s an only child.” Dr. Coomer pointed out. “I don’t think sending him to school is admitting defeat. I think there’s a lot of benefits to sending him to school that should be considered regardless.”

Gordon nodded. “...Yeah, I guess you’re right. I can start, like, looking into it, at least.”

Gordon stood and retrieved his laptop, and he and Dr. Coomer spent a while weighing the options for the various preschools in the area. Gordon had a kneejerk reaction to how expensive they were, but Dr. Coomer was quick to remind him that he could absolutely afford it at this point. Fortunately, it even turned out that enrollment was coming up within the next few weeks; Gordon finally settled on a couple different ones to check out, printed some of the necessary paperwork, and stood to head up to his room and get himself properly dressed.

“I’m gonna head over to Tommy and Darnold’s to say hi.” Gordon announced to Dr. Coomer and Benry as he headed back down the stairs.

“In that case, I may just head on home.” Dr. Coomer replied as he stood. “I’d like to have a discussion with Bubby sooner rather than later. Of course, you’re always welcome to call if you need me.”

“Yeah, alright. Thanks, Dr. Coomer.”

Dr. Coomer approached Gordon to wrap him up into a tight hug. “I’ll see you again tomorrow, Gordon! Take care of yourself. I love you.”

Gordon hugged Dr. Coomer back. “Yeah, I love you too, Coomer.”

“Yo, can I come with?” Benry asked as Gordon and Dr. Coomer pulled away.

Gordon grimaced. For however weirdly chill he felt about Benry being in his house, he still wasn’t entirely certain of how comfortable he felt with him being around Joshua. He was about to say no, but Dr. Coomer stepped in first.

“Benry, why don’t you come back to my house instead?” He suggested.

“...Okay.” Benry said, shuffling off the armchair.

Once they were all out of the house, Gordon made sure to lock the front door before they said their goodbyes and parted ways. Gordon paused at Tommy and Darnold’s front door, setting the laptop and paperwork he’d carried over aside and making sure his hair was tied back neatly before knocking a couple times. Tommy was the one to answer, greeting Gordon with a wide smile.

“Hi, Mr. Freeman.” He said politely. “Are you feeling any better?”

Gordon nodded. “Yeah, I’m, uhh—I’m doing okay. Thanks, Tommy.”

“Daddy!” Joshua shouted, barreling to the front door and squeezing past Tommy to wrap his arms tightly around Gordon.

“Hey, Josh!” Gordon said, carefully freeing his right hand to pat Joshua’s back affectionately. “How’s it been with Tommy and Darnold?”

“Good!” Joshua replied with a wide smile. “I have a farm!”

“You do?” Gordon asked as Tommy stepped aside, letting Joshua lead Gordon inside. “Where’s your farm?”

Gordon set his things aside on Tommy and Darnold’s kitchen table, only having a brief moment to greet Darnold before he was dragged out to their backyard. There were several mounds of dirt in the grass, which Joshua quickly began to sprinkle with water using a tiny plastic watering can.

“We got him some seeds that he buried a few of, but he also ended up burying some other things.” Darnold said as he followed them outside. “I think my credit card’s in one of those holes.”

Gordon laughed, watching Joshua tend to his garden fondly. “Well, if Josh has his way, you could end up being a lot richer than you already are.”

Darnold snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

Tommy was quick to join them outside as well, Sunkist nudging past to sniff the mound of dirt Joshua was currently patting.

“Thanks for watching him, guys.” Gordon said earnestly. “I’m sorry to put so much on you guys.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Freeman, you weren’t being that bad. We were just worried.” Tommy replied.

“Any time you need someone to watch Joshua, I’ll always be happy to.” Darnold added.

Soon, Gordon coaxed Joshua back inside, urging him to sit down at the table with him as he opened his laptop. “Do you remember the daycare you used to go to?” Gordon asked him.

“Yeah.”

The connotations of that were something for him to file away for later, considering Gordon only vaguely knew of the daycare himself. For now, that was a stepping stone for them to discuss preschool. “How would you feel if instead of that, you started going to preschool?”

Joshua didn’t reply, but he gave Gordon an uncertain look.

“Here, I can show you some pictures of some of the places you could go to.” Gordon offered, opening one of the first tabs. As Gordon showed him pictures and explained what he might do each day, Joshua warmed up to the idea, much to Gordon’s relief.

“Do you wanna stay for lunch, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asked as Gordon was finishing up with the paperwork.

“I’m gonna make grilled cheese!” Darnold said enthusiastically, already rolling up his sleeves and walking into the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Gordon replied, setting his laptop and paperwork aside.

Darnold went hard with the grilled cheese, using a really nice loaf of sourdough and a mix of fancy cheeses with tomato slices. Gordon always just used white bread and shitty Kraft single slices. Once they were done with lunch, Gordon stayed to hang out, watching the ways Tommy and Darnold had been handling Joshua. They made _really_ good babysitters, Gordon thought to himself; they were always patient with him, and usually had cute ideas to keep him occupied. He felt guilt wash over him, watching Joshua receive proper engagement, as opposed to what Gordon had been doing. The past month must have been pretty hard on Joshua as well.

Gordon felt a lump beginning to form in his throat. He _couldn’t_ be this sensitive, right? He thought to himself harshly. He quickly stood, pausing to tousle Joshua’s hair.

“Uhh—I’ll be right back.” He said, trying to keep his voice even.

Gordon hurried up the stairs, locking himself in Tommy and Darnold’s guest bathroom and sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He buried his face in his hands, tears stinging his eyes as he finally allowed himself to cry as quietly as he could manage. It didn’t take long for him to hear a gentle knock on the door.

“Mr. Freeman? Are you alright?” Tommy asked on the other side of the door.

Gordon wiped at his face, trying to get himself under control. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” He called back, his voice betraying him by shaking as he spoke.

Tommy didn’t reply for a good minute. “Are you sure?” He finally asked.

Gordon sighed, standing and opening the door for Tommy. Tommy frowned at the sight of Gordon, and when Gordon glanced to the side at the mirror, he could see why. He looked like a mess, some of his hair coming out of the hairtie and his eyes puffy and red. Joints aching, Gordon plopped back down on the edge of the bathtub, Tommy following him in to sit on the toilet cover. It was cramped, but he didn’t mind so much with Tommy—when a man lets you bleed all over him while he supports you through a battlefield with aliens and soldiers, it’s pretty likely you’ll care less if you’re knee-to-knee while you cry in his bathroom. Tommy didn’t push Gordon into talking, only waiting silently while Gordon did his best to compose himself.

“Thanks for watching Josh. Really.” Gordon finally managed to say. “I didn’t...really register how bad it was starting to get.”

“Of course, Mr. Freeman.” Tommy replied.

“I just...” Gordon paused, trying to swallow the lump forming in his throat again. “Everything is perfect now. Or at least—mostly perfect. I don’t have to work a shitty job, I’ve got a nice house, I don’t have to worry about anything, I know we’re safe now! But...I don’t _feel_ safe. I never do.”

Tommy nodded sympathetically as Gordon couldn’t help but choke out a sob.

“And I don’t want that to affect Josh.” Gordon went on, voice shaking. “You guys have been doing such a good job with him, and I appreciate that so much, but...”

Gordon stopped, burying his face in his hands as he melted into sobs. He felt Tommy’s hand rest on Gordon’s left arm. He didn’t say anything, but he was there—as embarrassing as this was, Gordon at least didn’t have to feel alone. By the time he managed to get himself under control again, Tommy finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman.” He said gently.

Gordon snorted as he wiped at his face. “You can call me Gordon, man. It’s not like we’re at work or anything.”

“...Gordon...it’s gonna be okay.” Tommy continued. “The past month of—uhh, of you struggling doesn’t define how good you have the potential to be. You’ve already proven that you’re...that you’re strong, so I think you can push through and do well for Joshua moving forward.”

“It seems like doing the bare minimum of keeping us alive in a video game is all I’m really good for.” Gordon muttered.

“That’s not true.” Tommy said sternly. “I think you’re gonna be okay. Trust me.”

Gordon brushed his loose hair out of his face. “...Thanks, Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had all these gordon-centric chapters about his rescas recovery labeled as "gordon's no good very bad week" in my notes.....he's ok tho


	17. REPORT: Regarding B.Coomer's plans to reconcile; subject "Benry"'s experiences with reality

“Bubby, dear, do you think we could talk in private?”

Bubby looked at Harold as he entered the house, followed by Benry. Harold paused to take off his shoes, and Benry, fully immersed in his Gameboy, bumped gently into Harold’s back. He barely reacted, just shuffling around Harold to proceed to their living room.

“Okay.” Bubby replied, trying to hide the anxiety in his tone. He _had_ been intending to talk about his outburst with Gordon—he just...hadn’t yet. And now Harold had found out through Gordon, making the situation a hundred times worse, surely. He followed Harold upstairs to their shared bedroom, picking at loose threads on the hem of his shirt as Harold sat down on the edge of their bed, inviting Bubby to do the same.

“I heard about yesterday.” Harold announced calmly as Bubby sat down beside him. “What happened?”

“...You already know what happened.” Bubby grumbled.

“I know what _Gordon_ saw. He said you grew angry with him completely out of nowhere.” Harold said firmly. “Why did you lash out at him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bubby, please work with me here. I just want to help.” Harold said gently, taking Bubby’s hand.

“...Are you mad?” Bubby asked sheepishly, pulling his hand away to continue fidgeting with his shirt.

“Well, I’m quite upset you were so cruel to Gordon. Particularly when we’ve been trying to help him through a rough time.” Harold replied honestly. Bubby’s stomach churned at that, and he turned away from Harold. “It sounds to me like you’re struggling quite a bit yourself, though. I don’t think that excuses it, but I want to understand what happened.”

“I—I don’t know what happened.” Bubby said, tugging a thread he’d pulled loose out of his shirt. “I just...I started thinking about the game. How he lost his arm, how...it was kind of my fault.”

“You feel guilty?” Harold asked.

Bubby let out a deep sigh. “...Yeah.”

“Yelling at him is no way to handle that.”

“I know.” Bubby groaned, sitting his glasses on top of his head so he could rub his eyes.

“What was all that about how you called him selfish for wanting to be friends with you?”

“I—I didn’t say _that._ ” Bubby replied evasively. “I only said...he...isn’t entitled on the basis of him being the player.”

Harold gave Bubby a stern look. “Bubby, that isn’t much better.”

“I know!” Bubby repeated, looking away from Harold again. “I was an asshole. I know I was. I knew it while it was happening, I just—I don’t know. I don’t know why I did it.”

Harold sighed, wrapping an arm around Bubby’s shoulders and pulling him in close.

“I don’t know why he even still bothers with me.” Bubby went on, crossing his arms uncomfortably. “If he’s so mad at me about the arm, why does he still want to be my friend? I don’t understand it.”

“He can feel complicated about you, Bubby. You _did_ betray him, but you also stepped up and helped us fight Benry.” Harold pointed out. “...Do you think, perhaps, it was easier to lash out and try to end your friendship with him on your own terms than to accept that he might tell you to leave?”

Bubby bit the inside of his cheek hard, staring down at his lap wordlessly.

“Just because someone you care about is angry with you doesn’t mean you get to give up on your relationship entirely.” Harold said, rubbing his arm comfortingly. “I know it feels overwhelming. But if you felt guilty about betraying him, you should have approached him yourself.”

Bubby nodded slowly.

“Do you still want to be his friend?” Harold asked.

“Well, at this rate, I don’t think my thoughts on that even matter.” Bubby grumbled. “He probably hates me even more, now.”

“I don’t want to make promises on how Gordon feels, but regardless of that, forgetting Gordon’s potential reaction, what do _you_ want?”

“I...I don’t want him out of my life.” Bubby mumbled.

“Then you ought to apologize.”

“I know.”

“I can help you figure out what to say, if you need.” Harold offered.

“No, I...” Bubby dragged his palm down his face. “I should probably do it myself.”

“...Alright. That makes sense.”

“I just—I need a little bit to gather my thoughts before I go over.” Bubby said, pulling away from Harold to sit up properly.

“Of course.” Harold nodded. Bubby had gotten used to Harold pulling him in for a kiss or anything else before he pulled away fully, but he didn’t make any moves like that this time. He just folded his hands in his lap instead. “I hope for the best for you two, Bubby.”

“Thanks, Harold.” Bubby murmured. “I—...I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“You...still seem upset. Which—I understand that. It’s just...I’m sure it was upsetting to hear about all that from Gordon.” Bubby fumbled, curling in on himself a little. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m upset on Gordon’s behalf, Bubby. There’s no reason for you to be apologizing to _me._ ” Harold replied. “I’ll feel much better once you apologize to Gordon, and show him a true understanding of what hurt him.”

Bubby nodded. “O-okay. Yeah.”

The air in the room was tense as Bubby stood up, pushing his glasses up on his face. Harold still seemed so stern and upset. Bubby took a deep breath, trying to mitigate the spike of whatever feeling was threatening to make him blow up again. He headed downstairs instead, intent to cook himself some food and hope it calmed him down.

****

Benry hadn’t been in Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s house quite so much as Tommy and Darnold’s. They didn’t really have much for him to do at their place, though he was starting to think maybe he’d swing by more often. Being around Gordon and Tommy was nice, but they both seemed to have a lot of baggage with him that he wasn’t sure he could begin to unpack; Dr. Coomer and Bubby were chill, though. They weren’t waiting for him to give some massively redeeming speech. He could just sit on their couch without expectation, playing his Gameboy and let things be.

They were upstairs at the moment, though, having some private conversation. They were up there for a good while—long enough for Benry to set his Gameboy down on his chest, contemplating how much trouble he’d get in if he went over to Tommy’s house for the company. Bubby and Dr. Coomer came downstairs before he made his decision on that, though, saving him the trouble of going over to find out. He picked his Gameboy back up as Dr. Coomer sat down as well, Bubby heading into the kitchen instead.

“Oh, Bubby! Do be careful if you’re going to use the toaster.” Dr. Coomer called after him. “The last time I tried using it, it ended up smoking quite a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bubby said dismissively.

Dr. Coomer picked up a book he’d left beside the couch, and the room went quiet again, save for the sounds from the TV and Benry’s Gameboy. Benry distantly registered cursing from the kitchen a few minutes later, followed by a strong smell that he didn’t pay much mind.

“Bubby, are you using the toaster? Or are you just making eggs again?” Dr. Coomer asked loudly.

“Shut up, I have it under cont—” Bubby began to say, cut off by a horrible, high-pitched sound.

Benry pressed his hands to his ears and wrenched his eyes shut, but it did him no good—the sound surrounded him, piercing into his head despite his best efforts.

Benry rolled over, opening his eyes just in time to watch himself fall off the edge of the couch and onto the floor.

The edges of the room blurred and distorted, exploding into sharp green and red lines that wobbled around him, making it impossible to tell where he was, anymore.

If he tried, if he squinted, if he peeled the lines apart with his hands, he could see past it.

Not unlike something achingly familiar to him, the place he peered into was the lack of a space beneath the thick veil of their reality, revealed by everything around Benry simply falling apart at his touch.

He saw Gordon. Or, at least, he _thought_ it had to be Gordon. He didn’t _look_ like Gordon, but, well...

He was at the center of everything.

He always had been.

Benry knew that—it wasn’t a surprise to see him here.

He reached out anyway, though, and there was something about it that made his chest ache with a sense of forgotten hopelessness.

Regardless, he reached, as “Gordon” was the only anchor he could reach for, just as he always had been.

“Gordon” looked back at Benry with an indistinct face, an impossible eye color, and reached his arms high up to either side of him, wrapping his fingers firmly around the jittering lines of reality, pulling it shut around him again like curtains.

Benry took in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling the coarse carpet beneath him. The sound was gone, he noted with relief as he pushed himself up off the floor. Dr. Coomer was there, knelt down beside him.

“Benry!” Dr. Coomer said, reaching out to touch Benry’s shoulder. Benry quickly pulled away, the sensation too much for him to handle at the moment, and Dr. Coomer backed off a bit. “Are you alright?”

“Fuckin’—quit it with the alarms.” Benry growled, pulling his hat down by the flaps over his ears.

“You were glitching out!” Bubby exclaimed.

Benry pressed his hands to his ears again, Bubby’s loud tone grating on him as he tried to gather his bearings.

“What happened?” Dr. Coomer asked quietly.

“I dunno, man, it was just fucking _loud._ ” Benry griped, standing and moving away to get himself some space from them. He plopped down in the spot Dr. Coomer had been sitting in before, pulling his hood over his head.

“You were clipping through the floor!” Bubby said, quieter this time, but no less urgent.

Benry gritted his teeth, pulling the strings on his hoodie to close it over his face. “Yeah, so? Whatever.”

“Now, Bubby, perhaps we should give him some space.” Dr. Coomer suggested.

Dr. Coomer and Bubby backed off, letting Benry get back into his game. He felt better as the time passed; allowing himself to forget about what he’d seen made it easier to calm down. It wasn’t like it changed anything, anyway. They all knew it wasn’t real. And “Gordon” was doing it all for them. So what? No need to go digging and find something they didn’t like.

It was only after Benry had let himself forget about what had happened entirely when Dr. Coomer spoke again. “Benry, how have you been doing lately? Other than what happened earlier, of course.”

Benry didn’t turn away from his game, only shrugging. “Y’know. Hanging out.”

“Are you sure you’ve been doing fine?” Dr. Coomer pressed. “You’ve been avoiding the subject of the game quite a bit. If you need to talk about it...”

“What’s there to talk about?” Benry asked, glancing up at Dr. Coomer. It was an honest question; he didn’t really understand everyone else’s attitude towards it. They were so eager to rehash everything that happened. They’d already lived it once, why waste their time _talking_ about it?

“Well, for starters...I think an honest understanding of what happened at the end is long overdue.” Dr. Coomer said, twiddling his fingers.

Benry groaned. “I already talked about all this with Gordon, man, I don’t wanna go over it again.”

“Yes, but I’m not Gordon.” Dr. Coomer said firmly. “Benry, we’ve been very understanding and patient. But you _did_ try to kill us. If I’m being honest, I’m growing a little tired of putting forth so much effort with very little reciprocation from you.”

Benry frowned, stuffing his Gameboy in his pocket. “Why do you try so hard, then?”

“Because I know the rules of the game don’t necessarily reflect what you would have done outside the game.” Dr. Coomer replied. “ _And_ I know, what with the Nihilanth project, you’re not quite the same as you used to be. I understand reorienting yourself this way must be difficult, but you have to at least _try._ ”

More about the Nihilanth project, Benry thought with disappointment. They were really obsessed with it, whatever it was; Benry got the feeling he wasn’t going to get a moment of peace until he got a good handle on what the project actually was.

“Did you _want_ to kill us? Or was that something imposed by the game?” Dr. Coomer asked.

“That was game shit, man. I guess.” Benry said, turning to look at the TV. “Kinda hard to tell. I was kinda already built up as, like, a bad guy, just ‘cuz he got so annoyed by me, so y’know. Easy to fall into that when it’s what the player expects outta you. I was just—just trying to give a good show, y’know? Since it was for the player and all.”

Dr. Coomer eased back a little and nodded. “That’s what Bubby and I figured. It’s...not easy, feeling like you’re not in total control of who you are or what you can do.” He said slowly, looking down at his hands. “But I think your actions _after_ the game define you a lot more in this case than what you did in the game. And you avoiding the subject, refusing to acknowledge the effects it had on us regardless of how in control you were, has been rather hurtful.”

Benry slumped down in his seat with a deep frown.

“I mean, you’re right, it _was_ a game.” Bubby chimed in. “It all felt pretty dramatic at the time, but you know, it might have been worse to just...let it end without a big boss fight.”

Benry nodded knowingly.

“I’m...not sure I grasp what you’re saying, Bubby.” Dr. Coomer commented.

“Well, if you were playing a video game and it just suddenly _ended_ without a big event that felt, like, cumulative of everything you’d done up to that point—one big final challenge to face that wrapped the whole story up, would _you_ ever wanna pick it up again?” Bubby asked. “Would you still be interested in the characters? Or would you just be disappointed and move on?”

Dr. Coomer’s brow furrowed a bit as he looked away, not offering a response to that.

“...Was probably fucked up, how I suddenly was trying to kill you guys.” Benry offered sympathetically. “Sorry about that.”

“Eh. We’re past that.” Bubby said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Your apology is greatly appreciated, Benry.” Dr. Coomer said, pulling Benry in for a hug.

Benry let out a deep satisfied sigh, leaning into Dr. Coomer’s hug. He didn’t get a lot of affection from his friends these days; this was nice. He would have to remember to come back to Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s house more often for sure.

“I think there is perhaps someone who might appreciate an apology more, though.” Dr. Coomer suggested.

Benry didn’t reply, but he was getting what Dr. Coomer wanted out of him. For now, he was just intent to enjoy the quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnnggghh Atmosphere


	18. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman's relationships to B.Coomer and H.Coomer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: there's something introduced here that could look a Lot like alzheimer's or dementia regarding memory issues (it's not caused by that or any other sort of degenerative disorder though! the actual cause will get addressed later.)
> 
> i've gone back and rewritten chapters many times throughout this fic but this is the one i ended up redoing like....the most amount of times lol

The rest of the week without Joshua went by fairly smoothly, Gordon thought. He spent a little more time hanging out at Tommy and Darnold’s house as he finalized some things with the best looking preschool, finished unpacking everything in his house, and worked very hard to fix his sleep schedule. Finally, when the day came to take Joshua home, Gordon felt steadier than he had been when Darnold and Tommy first started babysitting. He had finally bitten the bullet and accepted help from his friends, he had plans for the near future in place, and he was determined to be the best that he could.

Darnold and Tommy stood at the doorway as Gordon helped Joshua tie his little shoes, intent to take him out to the park after dropping his things off at the house. He was glad to be getting him back, he thought; once he’d started feeling a little more stable, he’d _really_ begun to miss him. Once he was done tying his shoes, he stood back up, brushing his hair out of his face and turning to Tommy and Darnold.

“Thank you so much, guys.” Gordon said, reaching out to the two of them to pull them both into a hug. Tommy hugged Gordon back comfortably while Darnold stiffly patted Gordon’s back. “You two are _really_ good friends. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to repay you, seriously.”

“Of course, Gordon. Watching Joshua is literally never any trouble.” Darnold replied, pulling away from Gordon.

“Yeah, it was fun hanging out with Joshua.” Tommy added, squeezing Gordon one last time before pulling away as well. “If you need a little bit more time, you can always let us know.”

“I’ll keep you guys at the top of my list if I ever need a babysitter.” Gordon laughed. “Thanks again. Seriously, I love you guys.”

“I love you too, Mr.—I mean, Gordon.” Tommy said with a smile.

“Uhh—yeah.” Darnold said awkwardly.

Gordon headed back to his house with Joshua, dropping his things off inside and taking him back out to strap him into his car seat. Joshua told Gordon all about everything he’d been up to with Darnold and Tommy; Joshua really seemed to like them a lot. Gordon smiled. He really was lucky to have such caring friends, he thought.

At the park, Gordon sat down on a bench nearby, watching Joshua run around with other kids. Dr. Coomer was probably right—socialization with other kids his own age was surely going to do him a lot of good. He seemed to be having fun with other kids on his level. As Joshua was playing some weird game Gordon couldn’t quite understand the rules of, he noticed someone sitting down on the bench beside him. Gordon glanced over, jumping in surprise as he found Bubby settling in on the bench. He was dressed differently than he’d normally come to expect out of him—rather than just a plain t-shirt and comfortable looking travel pants, he had on a long black sundress, tall boots, and the leather jacket he sometimes wore. Gordon glanced around, expecting to find Dr. Coomer nearby, but it only seemed to be Bubby.

“Hi, Gordon.” Bubby greeted quietly.

“...Hey, Bubby.” Gordon greeted tentatively. “...I, uhh, like your outfit.”

Bubby pulled his leather jacket shut over his chest. “Thanks. I’m just...trying it out.”

“It looks good. It’s very... _you_ , for sure.”

“...Thanks.” Bubby muttered, shifting awkwardly in his seat and looking away. “Harold said the same thing.”

“Is he here?” Gordon asked, looking around the park again.

“No.” Bubby replied. “My...therapist...said I should try going on walks on my own. So here I am.”

“...Oh.” Gordon said. Maybe it was just the way Dr. Coomer had been the one to really talk up therapy, combined with how closed off Bubby tended to be, but that took him by surprise.

The two fell into an awkward silence. Gordon wanted to say something along the lines of “good for you, man, I’m proud of you,” something friendly—but Bubby had reacted poorly the last time he tried to be friendly, so he took a minute to think of something else to say.

“Umm...so...” Gordon tapped his fingers against his prosthetic hand. “I—I’m sorry if I was...being pushy. I didn’t want to like, force you into a friendship if you don’t like me or anything. I—”

“I never said I didn’t like you.” Bubby interrupted impatiently. His shoulders slumped down a little bit after a brief pause as he forced out a deep breath, pushing his glasses up on his face. “...I’m sorry, Gordon. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. And I’m sorry it took so long for me to apologize.”

Gordon frowned, staring down at his lap silently.

“I...I was a dick.” Bubby went on. “I guess I don’t really have an excuse for it, I was just being an asshole. I don’t actually...I don’t think that of you. It wasn’t your responsibility to get an apology out of me.”

“Then why did you say all that? It really hurt, man.”

Bubby sighed, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. “I started thinking about the game, and...your arm, and all that. I’ve had some time to think about it, and, uhhh...well, I guess I was more mad at myself than I was at you. And I couldn’t imagine why you still wanted me to be your friend. So I took it out on you rather than just owning up and apologizing. Tried...making you into the bad guy, to...make myself feel better.” Bubby paused again, turning to look Gordon in the eye. “So...I’m sorry, Gordon. About what I did in the game, and also for everything I told you the other day. You didn’t deserve that. Especially when I know you’ve been struggling enough as it is.”

Gordon took a moment to take all this in. After he had the time to process it, he gave Bubby a tentative smile. “Thanks, Bubby. That means a lot. Just don’t do it again, please, it really sucked.”

“I won’t.” Bubby reassured him, looking back down at his lap. “I...I do actually consider you a friend. If you’re still okay with that.”

“Aww. I consider you a friend, too.” Gordon said, wrapping his arm around Bubby’s shoulders and pulling him in for a hug.

Bubby tensed, so Gordon started to pull away, but Bubby stopped him, stiffly hugging him back. “Thanks for...being so understanding. I’m not really sure I deserve it.”

Gordon shrugged. “I’m really just relieved to hear you don’t actually think that about me. What you did fucking sucked a lot, but I mean, you reflected on it and owned up to it. So as long as you learn from it and don’t do it again, I’m willing to leave it in the past.” He said, pausing for a moment and thinking his next words over. “ _Plus_ , I...don’t really know much about your life before the resonance cascade, but it sounds like adjusting to life like this must be pretty hard. So, y’know, I’m willing to bear with you while you figure shit out. You’ve done the same for me.”

Bubby deflated a little bit in Gordon’s arms. “...Thanks. You’re a good friend, Gordon.”

“Yeah, man, of course.” Gordon replied, releasing Bubby.

Bubby slumped against the bench, looking significantly more relaxed, now. “So...is there a way I can make it up to you? Harold and I could probably have a look at that prosthetic, make it a little easier to work with.”

Gordon looked down at his prosthetic in surprise. “Huh? No, that’s fine. I’m already getting used to it.”

“You sure? I saw you’re doing everything with your other hand, now.”

Gordon shrugged. “Yeah? That’s fine. I don’t really _want_ anything fancy. Adjusting to it has been hard, I guess, but like...I don’t know. I’m not all that convinced that making my arm any different will...really help my attitude towards it, if that makes sense.”

Bubby tilted his head. “...Uhh...I’m not sure I get it.”

Gordon paused, taking a moment to try and find a way to articulate his feelings before shrugging again. “...I dunno. It’s hard to explain. Something about, like, this is a permanent disability. I don’t need to find some way to feel like it’s fixed, I just need to adjust, I guess? I’m sure I’ll think of some better way to put it later, I guess, but...y’know. Maybe someday I’ll change my mind and go wild with it, who knows? But for now, I’m both good with my arm as it is now, and...I feel...a little weird about you saying you should fix it to make it up to me. If I’m being honest.”

Bubby shrank down a little on the bench. “Oh. S-sorry.”

“It’s alright. I know you’re just trying to help.” Gordon said, looking back up at Bubby. “I guess, like, as far as things go, I’d rather just move on. Don’t worry about making it up to me or anything. There’s not really going to be one, like, singular action that absolves you of it except for you just trying to do better. Alright?”

Bubby nodded. “...Okay.”

The two of them sat there in silence for a bit, Gordon letting out a deep, relieved sigh. It was nice out today; not too hot, comparatively, with a gentle, cooling breeze. As such, there were a lot of people at the park—not that Gordon necessarily minded crowds that much, but it seemed to be setting Bubby on edge. He sat firmly in his place, though, still fiddling with the zippers on his jacket.

“...How have you been doing, since we last talked?” He asked tentatively.

Gordon let out a small sigh, looking back out towards Joshua. “Uhhh, good. All things considered. I’m...doing my best, y’know? I guess that’s all I can really say.”

Bubby nodded. “Yeah. I’m, uhh...glad to hear you’re doing okay. I’ve been worried.”

Gordon smiled a little, looking down into his lap. Some part of him still screamed about not wanting to burden his friends, but on the other hand, it was nice to hear Bubby cared. “Thanks, Bubby. How have _you_ been doing?”

Bubby looked surprised, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m...doing...fine.”

Gordon snickered. “Dude, you can tell me if you’re not doing well. We’re friends! I wanna hear how you’re really doing.”

“Mmm...fine.” Bubby huffed. “It’s been kind of hard adjusting, like you said. I’m not used to living like this. When I imagined it, I imagined always being with Harold, too, but my therapist, uhh...he said I should try to get myself not to rely on him so much.”

Gordon hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah. That makes sense. You seem like you’re doing pretty good, though. Is this, like, your first time being out without him?”

Bubby shook his head. “No. I’ve been out on my own a couple times before this.”

“How do you feel about it?”

Bubby shrugged. “It’s...nice, I think. I love Harold, but...I think I like being able to just exist on my own out here.”

“That’s really great, Bubby.” Gordon said with a smile. “I’m really glad to hear you’re adjusting.”

Bubby paused, his characteristic annoyed expression breaking. He even smiled at Gordon, just a little bit. “...Thanks, Gordon.”

“Bubby!” Joshua shouted from the playground. Gordon looked up, watching with a grin as Joshua sprinted to the bench and climbed his way up to Bubby’s lap.

“Oh—hi, Joshua.” Bubby greeted awkwardly.

“Come play with us!” Joshua insisted, grabbing onto Bubby’s jacket and indicating back to his new friends.

“N-no thanks.” Bubby mumbled.

“ _Please?_ ”

Gordon snorted, taking Joshua from Bubby’s lap. “C’mon, Josh, he said ‘no thanks’.”

Joshua pouted dramatically, turning away from Gordon and Bubby.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Gordon asked, wrapping his arms around Joshua and peering over his shoulder to look at him. “Do you wanna go get lunch?”

Joshua hummed in disapproval, still intent on being angry.

“Do you want pancakes?” Gordon asked enticingly. “We can go to that breakfast place, if you want.”

Joshua’s angry facade broke, and he turned to Gordon with a smile. “Yeah!”

“You wanna come with, Bubby?” Gordon asked, turning to Bubby as he helped Joshua off the bench.

Bubby stood slowly, brushing his dress out uncomfortably. “Uhh...I think I’m just going to go home. Thanks, though, Gordon.”

“Well, if that’s the case, you walked here, right? You want me to drive you home?”

Bubby paused, looking up at the pristine, clear sky and taking a deep breath before turning his attention back to Gordon. “...No. I’ll just walk home.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you around then, Bubby.” Gordon said as they both stood, taking Joshua’s hand in his own.

“Bye, Gordon. I...uhh—you—...” Bubby paused, stiffly putting a hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

Gordon snickered, pulling Bubby into another hug. “You too, dude. I love you.”

“...You too.”

“Say bye to Bubby, Josh.” Gordon said as he pulled away, nudging Joshua towards Bubby.

“Bye, Bubby.” Joshua repeated.

“Bye, Joshua.”

Gordon turned away with Joshua, letting Bubby get back to his walk. Gordon strapped Joshua back into his car seat, then headed around to the driver’s seat, patting his pockets on the way. He froze when he realized he didn’t have his wallet.

“Ahh, shit.” He muttered to himself. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he peered back at Josh in the rearview mirror. “Hey, bud, we gotta go home really quick first, Daddy forgot his wallet.”

Joshua pouted again, crossing his arms. Gordon resisted a laugh.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’ll only be a few minutes.” He said, starting up the car and heading back towards home.

As Gordon pulled into the neighborhood, he glanced at the houses of his friends. Just across the street from his own, he saw Dr. Coomer, sitting on a chair on his porch. Gordon parked his car hastily, keeping the keys in the ignition.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just gonna grab my wallet and ask Dr. Coomer if he wants to come.” Gordon announced as he hopped out of his car. First, he grabbed his wallet like promised, then half-jogged across the street to Dr. Coomer’s house.

Dr. Coomer was staring off into space as Gordon approached—apparently, not even noticing Gordon. Gordon climbed up the couple of steps, looking at Dr. Coomer curiously.

“Howdy, Dr. Coomer.” Gordon greeted.

Finally, Dr. Coomer seemed to snap out of his trance, looking at Gordon in surprise. “Oh! Hello, Gordon!”

“...You doing alright?”

Dr. Coomer made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Oh, I’m just fine, Gordon. I just got caught up thinking about something. What brings you here?”

“I was just about to take Josh out for pancakes.” Gordon replied, stuffing a hand into his pocket. “You wanna come with us?”

“That sounds wonderful! Thank you for the offer, but I think I’ll stay home.” Dr. Coomer said politely.

“...Alright.” Gordon nodded slowly. “Uhh—by the way, I talked things over with Bubby, finally.”

Dr. Coomer got a strange look on his face. He still smiled, but he averted his eyes and furrowed his brow. “Oh, that’s—...how did that go?”

“It went really good, actually.” Gordon said, sitting down on the edge of the other porch chair. “He seems like...he really cares, in his own way. So I forgive him, as long as he doesn’t pull that shit again.”

Dr. Coomer nodded, then paused, looking up at the sky. “That’s very good to hear, Gordon.”

Gordon tilted his head at Dr. Coomer. “Are you sure you’re alright, man? You’re acting kinda weird.”

“I’m perfectly fine! Don’t worry about me.” Dr. Coomer insisted.

Gordon paused for a long minute. How much would it be alright for him to push it? He wondered. Well, if the others hadn’t pushed it with him, he might still be in the same state he was in last week. Gordon nudged the chair a little closer to Dr. Coomer.

“Hey, if you’re like, not doing well, you can totally talk to me.” Gordon said, placing a hand on Dr. Coomer’s forearm. “You’re one of my best friends. Of course I’m gonna worry about you—that’s not a bad thing. I want to help you if you need it.”

Dr. Coomer bit his lip, looking away silently.

“...If you really want me to go, though, I can. And you can just...call me later, if you need.” Gordon suggested gently.

“I...” Dr. Coomer started, then stopped for a long moment. “I’m not...sure I have the words to articulate what I’m struggling with at the moment. Maybe later.”

“...You sure? I mean, you don’t have to go into details or anything. Even if you just need me to go pick something up for you or something like that, I can do that.”

“Umm...” Dr. Coomer twirled his hair over his finger, biting his lip as he thought something over. “Could you...tell me something, Gordon? Without judgment?”

“Of course, man.”

Dr. Coomer took a long moment to gather himself before asking his question, drumming his fingers on his knee as he thought. “...How long have we been...here?”

Gordon took his turn with a long pause, glancing out at the neighborhood street in front of them. “Uhh—what do you mean, ‘here’? You mean, like, outside the game?”

Dr. Coomer nodded.

“I think, like...maybe two or three months, now?” Gordon replied tentatively. “Kinda hard to remember, without like, _structure_ in my life. Y’know? But yeah, couple of months.”

Dr. Coomer nodded again, looking down into his lap.

“...Why do you ask?”

Dr. Coomer forced a smile at Gordon. “Oh, it’s—it’s nothing you need to worry about, Gordon. I was just...having a bit of trouble remembering, is all.”

Gordon furrowed his brow, squeezing his forearm a little bit. “Is this, like...new for you? Are you having memory problems?”

Dr. Coomer shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I—it’s—...it’s not necessarily my memory, it’s...” Dr. Coomer stopped, letting out a deep sigh. “It’s...difficult to talk about. Particularly because I don’t fully understand what it is. So...I’ll talk to you later about it, when I understand it a little better. Okay?”

“...Alright.” Gordon muttered. “Well, I mean, whenever you wanna talk about it, or if you ever need me to like, fill things in for you, I’m here.”

“Okay, Gordon. Thank you.”

Gordon stood, leaning down for an awkward hug with Dr. Coomer. “I’d better get going, Josh is waiting on me. But give me a call if you need me.”

“Alright. I will.” Dr. Coomer replied, hugging Gordon back much gentler than he normally did.

Gordon pulled away, giving him one last goodbye before half-jogging across the street and climbing back into his car with a sigh. Joshua, as predicted, was growing incredibly impatient, squirming in his car seat and demanding they go.

“Sorry that took so long, Josh. Daddy had to talk to Coomer about something.” Gordon told him as he pulled out of the driveway. “We’ll be there soon, okay?”

Joshua, properly placated, went quiet in the back, watching the neighborhood go by as Gordon drove and chewed on his lip thoughtfully. He’d never seen Dr. Coomer act like that before; he was starting to wonder if it had been wise for him to leave. Once he was stopped at a traffic light, he pulled out his phone, quickly dialing Tommy’s number. He set it to speaker and set the phone carefully in his lap.

“Hello?” Tommy greeted.

“Hey, Tommy.” Gordon replied. “Uhh—listen, sorry to drop this on you so suddenly if you and Darnold are busy. But do you think maybe you could keep an eye on Dr. Coomer for a bit? Bubby’s out on a walk, and I promised Josh I’d get him pancakes, but he seems...he doesn’t seem like he’s doing too good right now. I’m worried about him being left alone.”

“Oh, okay, sure.” Tommy said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be fine, but...y’know.” Gordon shrugged as traffic began flowing again. “Bubby’ll be back within the hour, I bet. And he’s just kinda sitting there out on his porch, but...I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about it, I guess.”

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll head over and sit with him.” Tommy said, and Gordon could hear shuffling on the other end. “I’ll talk—uhh, talk to you later, Gordon.”

“Yeah, see ya. Thanks, Tommy.”

“Of course. Bye.”

Gordon flipped his phone shut with a quiet sigh. For all the times Dr. Coomer asked for Gordon’s help in the game, Gordon noted he sure seemed to struggle seeking help outside the game. Strange, how different they ended up being outside the game sometimes—maybe he should have been keeping a closer eye on him? He wondered.

Well, Gordon wasn’t the only one who could help, he reminded himself. Surely, Bubby had an idea of what Dr. Coomer was currently struggling with; maybe Gordon had just caught him at a particularly bad time. And Tommy and Darnold were always there, too. They all had a pretty good support network with each other.


	19. REPORT: Regarding D.Pepper's friendship with H.Coomer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey here's an unfortunate note to start off on: sadly i had to turn off anonymous comments for the time being because some truscum weirdo is trying to get after me for how i wrote gordon being trans. i could just delete their comments whenever they pop up but i really don't want to be misgendered over this shit lmfao so i'm just biting the bullet and turning them off for now. i really hate having to turn off anon comments because i remember trying to get an invite for this site was hell way back when, idk how much easier it is these days but if you end up wanting an invite hit me up on tumblr!!! i've got like, 4 i can send out!
> 
> thanks to everyone else though for being so supportive!!!! i've had a lot of fun writing this fic, and i'm excited to see how you all feel about the plotpoints coming up!!!!

Darnold wasn’t sure what to do with his time, now that Gordon had taken Joshua back. He could return to his old routine—wake up at around noon, read while he had coffee, eat breakfast while watching whatever TV show he was currently watching, play video games, have lunch, do some cleaning, have dinner with Tommy, watch something with him, then go back to video games for the rest of the night until about 2 or 3 in the morning and go to sleep.

He hadn’t thought he was particularly suffering at the time, while he was living that routine. Now that he’d woken up the morning after Joshua was taken back home, though, Darnold laid there in bed, absolutely certain he couldn’t return to that life. He needed something to do.

Darnold got up, got dressed, and texted Dr. Coomer as he brushed his teeth.  
  
**DARNOLD:** good morning dr coomer!

Darnold set his phone down as he finished brushing his teeth. Once he was done and fully ready for the day, he picked his phone back up, expecting a response; Dr. Coomer hadn’t said anything back, though.

“Oh, right.” Darnold muttered to himself. Dr. Coomer had trouble texting. Maybe if he wanted to talk to him, he should call—or even go over to his house?

No, Darnold thought, biting his lip and stuffing his phone back into his pocket. Calling or inviting himself over felt too intrusive—never mind the fact that the others invited themselves over all the time. It was different for him. He wasn’t on the same level with the group; it would be rude for him to assume he was wanted without warning.

Darnold headed down to the kitchen with a sigh, grabbing himself some coffee and joining Tommy in the living room, who seemed to be in the middle of checking it thoroughly—the couch cushions were off the couch, piled up neatly as he knelt down to look underneath it with a little pocket flashlight in hand. As the floorboards creaked underneath Darnold’s feet, Tommy looked up sheepishly, quickly standing and brushing himself off to put the couch cushions back in place.

“Looking for something?” Darnold asked Tommy.

“Uhh—k-kinda. I mean, it’s fine.” Tommy replied, patting down the cushions against each other carefully before sitting down. “Just—you know. Umm, bad...b-bad paranoia day.”

“Oh, yeah.” Darnold replied knowingly, sitting down on the other end of the couch. He didn’t know much about Tommy’s delusions that would flare up—he understandably didn’t seem comfortable talking about them—but he would sometimes do this, checking their house carefully for something Darnold wasn’t privy to. Once he noted Tommy doing it, he tried to be sure not to get lazy with letting garbage slip behind things to be totally forgotten; Darnold couldn’t imagine needing to check those spaces and constantly getting faced with trash. “...Do you need anything?”

Tommy shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I already, um, checked everything I’d—I’d want to check, so...it’s fine.”

“Okay. Well, let me know if you think of anything else.” Darnold said before sipping his coffee.

“Are you going somewhere?” Tommy asked, picking up his own mug to sip from.

Darnold glanced down at his day clothes, waving his hand dismissively. “Uhh—maybe. I was sorta thinking about, um, asking Dr. Coomer about boxing...? But I think he’s busy, he didn’t reply to my text.”

“Well, Dr. Coomer doesn’t really respond to texts. You should call him.” Tommy pointed out, setting his mug aside.

“...Yeah, I dunno. I don’t wanna bother him.” Darnold said, glancing up at the TV. Tommy had it set to the news, which was displaying the weather for the week. Sunny days all throughout the week. “Plus, I mean, he didn’t seem to be doing well yesterday, right? Maybe it’s best to let him rest today.”

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know, he—uhhh...maybe getting active would help him. He _really_ likes boxing.”

Darnold bit his lip anxiously. “...Yeah. Maybe. Umm, I think I’ll give it a little while before I call him.”

Tommy averted his eyes for a moment before pulling out his phone. Darnold turned back to the TV, not thinking much of it. There were a brief few moments of silence as the news moved on from the weather segment, turning back to regular news. Darnold squinted at the TV, a familiar haze beginning to settle into his head. Weird. He wasn’t really processing what was going on—he could see the news anchors sat at the table talking, diagrams showing in boxes around them, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand what in the hell they were talking about. He turned to Tommy to ask about it, finding Tommy was holding his phone out to Darnold. There was a current ongoing call to Dr. Coomer.

“Wh—hey!” Darnold said in shock, fumbling with Tommy’s phone.

He tried to shut it before Dr. Coomer answered, but before he could manage, he heard a chipper, “Hello, Tommy!”

Darnold shut his eyes, anxiety surging in his chest as he picked up the phone properly and held it to his ear. “Umm—hi, Dr. Coomer. This is Darnold, actually.”

“Oh! Darnold! I’m sorry, I received your text message earlier, but I had trouble responding. I was going to call, but I ended up getting distracted.” Dr. Coomer replied. “How are you doing?”

“Ummm...I’m good.” Darnold said, standing and pacing awkwardly around the living room. “I was just—I was remembering how earlier in the week, I told you I was sorta thinking about getting back into boxing...? I think I said that.”

“Oh, yes!” Dr. Coomer said excitedly. “Oh, if you’re getting back into boxing, I would _love_ to join you!”

“Y-yeah! That’s why I was calling. I was wondering if you wanted to, umm, do some boxing today? If you’re free?”

Dr. Coomer made an excited squeaking noise on the other end. “Of course, Darnold, I would love to! I’m free all day, come on by whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay! Sure. I’ll be there in a bit.”

Darnold hung up, letting out a deep, exhausted sigh before returning to the couch and handing the phone off to Tommy.

“You tricked me.” Darnold said, trying to sound serious as he sat back down.

Tommy smiled coyly as he put his phone back into his pocket. “You don’t need to be—uhhh, you don’t need to be intimidated by Dr. Coomer. He’s the nicest guy I know.”

“I knooowww.” Darnold groaned, leaning his head back on the couch. “I think, like, I mean—I sort of consider him...a friend of mine, in a sense? But I know the one I talked to every day was a clone, not _him._ So...I don’t really know where I stand with him, anymore.”

“Well, of course you guys are friends. At least—if that’s what you want.” Tommy said, resting his chin in his hand. “Clone aside, we’re _all_ friends. You’re a part of this group, now. I definitely haven’t noticed Dr. Coomer, umm—being uncomfortable around you. He treats you the same way he does everyone else.”

Darnold’s face flushed a little in embarrassment. “I mean...yeah. I-I don’t know. I guess I’m just...” Darnold paused for a moment, making some vague hand gesture. “This is sorta new to me, I guess. I don’t really have a good sense for when I’m... _in._ You know?”

Tommy reached across the empty space between them, placing his hand over Darnold’s rested on the couch cushion. “I get that. But of course you’re in! We all like you.”

Darnold sat up fully, looking at Tommy’s hand overlapping his own. It wasn’t _abnormal_ for Tommy to initiate contact with him like this, but it always made him flustered all the same. He tapped his feet nervously, trying not to make eye contact with Tommy—that always got him in moments like this, making it difficult to talk to him properly.

“Y-yeah. Okay. Thanks, Tommy.” He muttered.

“Are you sure you should be boxing in jeans?” Tommy asked suddenly.

Darnold glanced down at his clothes again. “Oh. Uhh—I guess not. I sort of got caught up in looking presentable.”

Tommy laughed a little, pulling his hand away to pick up the remote and change the channel. “Dr. Coomer will probably send—uhh, send you right back here to change if you go in that.”

Darnold finished off his coffee and hurried back upstairs, changing into comfortable shorts and a tank top that could pass as workout clothes. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase, pausing to look at Tommy.

“Umm—did you wanna come with, or are you staying home?” Darnold asked.

Tommy looked at him for a long moment of silence. Darnold couldn’t help the heat rushing to his face as Tommy stared at him.

“Uhh—Tommy?” Darnold asked, waving his hand.

“Oh!” Tommy said, as if he’d just snapped back into his body, and quickly looked away. Maybe it was just the angle his face was tilted at, but Darnold noted it sort of looked like his face was going red. “Umm...it’s kind of sudden to go to someone else’s house...”

Darnold nodded. “Okay, no worries, just checking. I didn’t wanna leave without you, if you wanted to go.”

“Maybe I’ll—uhh, maybe I’ll stop by later, after I take Sunkist for a w-a-l-k.”

Despite Tommy spelling it out, Sunkist’s ears still perked up as she looked at him hopefully.

“Alright! See you in a little while, Tommy.”

Tommy smiled at him. It was such a cute smile; every time he did it, Darnold found it nearly impossible to look away. “Bye, Darnold.”

Darnold headed across the street to Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s house, knocking on the front door and bouncing on his heels as he waited. He hadn’t been to either their house or Gordon’s on his own before; he was always accompanied by Tommy. This was going to be new. Dr. Coomer was quick to answer the door, already in his own workout clothes.

“Hello, Darnold!” Dr. Coomer greeted with a wide smile as he stepped aside. “Come on in.”

Darnold entered the house, moving to take off his shoes politely.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I was figuring we would go outside.” Dr. Coomer said, waving his hand dismissively. “Do you have any gloves...?”

“Oh! Damn, I forgot.” Darnold cursed, glancing back towards the front door. “I can probably go out and pick some up...”

“No worries! You can borrow Bubby’s.” Dr. Coomer replied kindly. “I didn’t think you had time to pick any up, since you were watching Joshua, so they’re already outside.”

Darnold followed Dr. Coomer through the house to the back door, where they stepped outside. Bubby was sat in one of the chairs in the yard, beside their table with one of those nice big umbrellas stemming from the center and wearing sunglasses as he read a book.

“H-hi, Bubby.” Darnold greeted.

“Morning, Darnold.”

Dr. Coomer was thorough, leading Darnold through some stretches before tossing him Bubby’s pair of gloves. He was a very enthusiastic teacher; Darnold remembered some basic things, but was rusty on stance and form, quickly getting corrected by Dr. Coomer.

“Now, remember, I _do_ have cybernetic enhancements.” Dr. Coomer said as he slid into his own stance with ease. “I know how to manage my strength, but if it’s ever too much, just tell me.”

Darnold nodded. “Okay.”

“Also, on that note, don’t be afraid to punch me with everything you’ve got!” Dr. Coomer went on. “You may have youth on your side, but I’ve still got the finest of Black Mesa technology in my body!”

Darnold laughed. “Okay. I mean, as I am now, I don’t think I could hit most anybody bad enough to cause concern, but sure.”

Obviously, there was no way Dr. Coomer was ever going to go anything but easy on Darnold, considering his enhancements; but Darnold got the feeling he was _really_ holding back, making it easier for Darnold to land some hits. It was fun, even if he knew Dr. Coomer wasn’t giving it his all—he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the rush of a match. Eventually, Darnold reached his limit, putting up his hands in defeat and taking a step back as he caught his breath.

“Had enough?” Dr. Coomer asked playfully.

Darnold nodded. “Yeah. Whoo—that’s tiring.” He commented through exhausted breaths. “It’s fun, though!”

“It most certainly is!” Dr. Coomer replied with a grin. He sat down in the chair closest to Bubby as he took off his gloves to reach for one of the water bottles he’d already set out. “I think you would have gotten along very well with the boxing club, back before the resonance cascade.”

Darnold sat down as well, taking off Bubby’s gloves and grabbing a bottle for himself. “Oh—yeah, I dunno. I was kind of a recluse in Black Mesa. Even if I knew it was a thing, I might’ve been too nervous to go.”

“You could have witnessed the day Bubby broke my ribs!” Dr. Coomer said with much too fond a smile for how painful that moment sounded.

“Do you _have_ to bring that up?” Bubby asked with a frustrated look.

“I’ve always told you, breaking my ribs was one of the best things you’ve done for me.” Dr. Coomer wrapped an arm around Bubby, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Other than just being in my life, of course.”

“Stop, you’re all sweaty.” Bubby complained, but didn’t pull away. “I’m sure Beatrice would’ve found _some_ excuse to ask you to volunteer for cybernetics, anyway. It was just good timing. Plus, I think that night was before Darnold’s time, anyway. Right?”

Dr. Coomer put a hand to his chin as he thought about it. “Hmmm. Yes, perhaps. We didn’t know Tommy yet, I don’t think, so Darnold must not have been employed with Black Mesa yet.”

“Uhhh—so, how did that work out to be a good thing?” Darnold asked curiously.

“Oh! Did you ever happen to know Beatrice, Darnold?” Dr. Coomer asked. “She was the head of the cybernetics department. She tended to go around asking for volunteers.”

Darnold shrugged. “I think I met her once, while they were moving out of the lab that became the mixology department.”

“Oh, right.” Dr. Coomer nodded. “...Hm. Do you suppose Beatrice transferred departments, or did she leave Black Mesa entirely...?”

Dr. Coomer and Bubby got a contemplative look. It took a moment for Darnold to catch on, but soon, he understood—they were wondering if Beatrice was still alive or not. Darnold shuddered a bit.

“Well...anyways.” Dr. Coomer cleared his throat, taking a moment to return to his normal, cheery disposition. “She was in our boxing club. I egged Bubby on into punching me harder than usual, and he broke my ribs. That’s when Beatrice approached me to ask if I wanted to volunteer for the cybernetics department! I got a lot of wonderful changes and enhancements that I’m very happy with.”

Dr. Coomer extended his arms to demonstrate, arms automatically reeling back in to snap into place.

“Huh. That’s pretty cool.” Darnold replied with a slightly less awkward than usual smile. “So—hey, I guess on the topic of Black Mesa and all, I was sort of wondering something.”

Dr. Coomer looked at Darnold curiously.

“I sorta befriended one of your clones, back before the resonance cascade.” Darnold explained, leaning against the table. “I mean— _sort of._ I rode the tram with him every day, we ended up talking a lot. Do you remember that? I know he said you all shared a consciousness, in a sense.”

Dr. Coomer paused to think about it. As he looked down at the grass, his muscles sort of went a little more slack than normal; a few moments passed, and his eyes seemed to glaze over a little bit as he continued to stare into the grass.

“Harold?” Bubby asked, patting his back.

Dr. Coomer shook his head a little bit as he seemed to snap back to reality, looking around briefly like he’d just woken up. He looked at Darnold, squinting and tilting his head a little.

“Oh—ummm...” Dr. Coomer cleared his throat, siting up straighter, looking a little more reserved than he had been a few moments ago. “I’m sorry, can you repeat your question?”

Darnold exchanged a look with Bubby before nodding. “Uhh, yeah. I was wondering if you remembered me, since you shared, like, the memories with all of your clones. We used to ride the tram together...?”

“Oh, yes, I remember that.” Dr. Coomer nodded. “It’s very good to see that you made it out.”

Darnold nodded as well, uncertainly. “Yeah. I’m...really glad, too. I guess, technically, since I achieved self-awareness or whatever somehow, I was sort of...destined to? But...y’know. Glad to be here.”

“That’s so strange, isn’t it?” Dr. Coomer commented, looking up towards the sky. “Who decided which of us was going to be self-aware? What made any of us more deserving of it over others?”

Darnold exchanged another glance with Bubby. Bubby reached out for Dr. Coomer’s hand, earning a surprised expression from him.

“Are you feeling alright, Harold?” Bubby asked him.

Dr. Coomer shrugged. “It would be one thing, to be living a life where _anything_ could happen. If something cruel or unjust happens to you or someone you love, there’s a sort of comfort in knowing that it wasn’t anything personal. That’s just the fate of reality; completely wonderful things could happen at any moment for no reason, but horrible things can happen as well. But in a reality like ours, decisions were made. Things happened for a _reason._ And the reason, more than likely and no matter how painful the experiences, has very little to do with _us._ ”

Darnold tilted his head, feeling a coldness seeping into him as Dr. Coomer spoke. “Umm...what do you mean?”

Dr. Coomer pulled his hand away from Bubby’s so he could cross his arms. “When you play a video game, does an NPC talk to you for their own enjoyment, or is it for the benefit of the player?”

Darnold looked down at his water. “It’s...for the player, I guess.”

Dr. Coomer nodded. “Exactly. Everything that happened in the game was for the player’s experience. And whatever this world is that we’re in now...I get the impression it’s very much the same. We’re all here for Gordon’s experience.”

Darnold bit his lower lip, unsure what to say to that. Whatever it was that had set Dr. Coomer on this train of thought, Darnold had certainly crossed some boundary by accident.

“Umm...well...I don’t know about all that.” Darnold admitted. “Uhh—is it too early for lunch? Do you want lunch? I can make lunch.”

Dr. Coomer didn’t respond.

“...That sounds good, Darnold.” Bubby filled in, putting a hand on Dr. Coomer’s shoulder.

“Cool. I’ll, uhhh—I’ll go make something at my place really quick and bring it on over.” Darnold said as he stood. “Be back in a few.”

Darnold hurried back to his house, mind racing with thoughts about reality and what sorts of things were in his fridge. When he arrived, Tommy wasn’t in the kitchen or living room, and he wasn’t greeted by Sunkist—they must have been out on their walk, he thought. He was left alone to start throwing some food together to share with Dr. Coomer and Bubby as he considered what Dr. Coomer had said.

It _was_ strange, given everything about the game, that Darnold had self-awareness. Everyone else seemed to be so highly motivated to contribute to the player’s experience; he had been as well, to an extent, he recalled. He probably wouldn’t have given anyone else an experimental potion just as they walked through his lab—well, that was a lie, he totally would, but not something that had such an extreme effect—but he’d given it to Gordon with very little thought. Then, they were all on their way, and Darnold stayed behind.

What made Dr. Coomer so different from his clones? He wondered. Why was Dr. Coomer self-aware, but the clones generally weren’t?

Darnold finished making some sandwiches, carefully placing them in a tupperware container and heading back across the street. He let himself through the gate to the backyard instead of the front door, finding Dr. Coomer and Bubby must have moved inside. He circled around to the back door, opening it and glancing inside. He didn’t see them in the living room; or the kitchen, for that matter. Listening closely, he could hear them talking upstairs. Darnold sighed quietly, closing the tupperware container and finding a place for it in their fridge.

“Hey.”

Darnold jumped in surprise, turning around to see Benry suddenly sat at the kitchen table.

“You make some food?” Benry asked, eyeing the fridge.

Darnold pulled the container back out. He’d made three sandwiches, but wasn’t feeling particularly hungry himself; he’d just intended to leave it for Dr. Coomer and Bubby to sort out. He pulled out the third before putting the other two in the fridge, holding it out to Benry.

“Nice.” Benry said, munching on the sandwich. “Good sandwich, bro.”

Darnold snorted. “Uhh—thanks. I guess...Dr. Coomer and Bubby are busy now, so I’ll just probably head back home.”

“I just got here, bro, I don’t think they’ll like it if I go upstairs right now.” Benry complained. “C’mon, sit with me for a minute? Please? Tommy’s still mad at me, and Gordon’ll get pissed if I go to his house right now. It’ll be too quiet if you go.”

Darnold sat down uncomfortably. “I don’t think Tommy’s, like, _mad_ at you. Not enough for you to be permanently banned from our house or anything. You two probably just need to talk things out.”

Benry didn’t look convinced. He took another bite of his sandwich thoughtfully, glancing at the staircase up to Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s room. “What’s going on with them?”

Darnold shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I upset Dr. Coomer by accident.” He muttered guiltily.

“One’a those times he like, starts being all weird about the game?”

Darnold nodded.

Benry took another bite, speaking through his food. “Yeah. Happens.”

“So...what have you been doing?”

Benry nodded to the staircase. “Y’know, getting into making some shit. Gotta do _something._ ”

Darnold nodded knowingly. “Yeah. It’s kind of boring, not having a job. I mean, having a job sucked because of capitalism and everything, but you know.”

“It doesn’t have to be boring.” Benry pointed out. “You could do, like—you could do some potions shit.”

“Yeah. I guess I could.” Darnold said thoughtfully, leaning against the table. “I just don’t have access to a lot of the materials I had in Black Mesa, so it’d only be some really low-grade stuff, like the Powerade. The Powerade was fun, but I miss messing around with more exciting potions. Like the one Gordon drank.”

Benry didn’t reply; he only shrugged, finishing off the sandwich. “You wanna play video games? Please? I’ve got a Playstation now.”

Darnold glanced at the oven clock and sighed. “Ummm...maybe some other time. I’m gonna head back home.”

“Fiiiine.” Benry sighed.

Darnold stood, saying goodbye to Benry before heading back towards his house. As he was crossing the street, Darnold noticed Tommy sitting on the stairs to their porch with Sunkist, head rested in his hands. Tommy smiled brightly at him as he approached, patting the space on the stair beside him, inviting him to sit down.

“Are you already done boxing?” Tommy asked as Darnold sat down.

Darnold nodded. “Yeah. Dr. Coomer’s, umm, not feeling well, I guess.”

Tommy frowned a bit. “...Yeah.”

“Tommy?”

“Hm?”

“What do you think of...the player?”

Tommy paused for a long moment as he thought about it. “What do you mean?”

Darnold shrugged. “Dr. Coomer was going on about, like, how everything was for the player’s experience, and how it was unfair for us, because we only live to cater to the player. Or like, something like that.”

Tommy sighed a little and nodded. “Yeah. Well...I don’t know. I think it’s—umm, I think it’s fair for him to be upset about that. But the way I see it, our lives have value to the player, just like they do to the rest of us. Right?”

Darnold rested his chin in his hand, looking down the street. Gordon seemed to be on his way back from a jog with Joshua in a stroller, waving exhaustedly at Tommy and Darnold. Tommy and Darnold both waved back as he made his way slowly towards them.

“Yeah. That makes sense.” Darnold finally replied. “I guess it’s just weird to think about. We don’t just live for the sake of it—we’re here for him. Y’know?”

“I don’t know. It kind of—it seems like we are _now._ ” Tommy pointed out. “Gordon—the player—seems to care about us a lot, like, individually, as our own people. So I think it’s fine, now.”

“...Hm.” Darnold looked up towards the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. In fact, he couldn’t recall ever seeing a cloud in the sky ever since the game ended. “Yeah. I guess so.”


	20. REPORT: Regarding B.Coomer's life outside Black Mesa

“Leaving already?”

Bubby turned away from the front door to look at Harold. Bubby had already had the time to prepare himself for the day; Harold, on the other hand, had clearly just rolled out of bed. Bubby’s stomach fluttered a little at the sight of his partner’s bedhead and sleepy expression, as if he hadn’t seen it more times than he could count already. He’d even seen it before in Black Mesa, those times Harold stayed the night on Bubby’s couch—but it truly felt so different seeing him this way now that they lived together officially, slept in the same bed, and shared the same spaces out of the genuine freedom they had to spend the rest of their lives together. His dorm had been a safe haven away from the stresses of Black Mesa and Harold’s ex-wife’s expectations; making it feel more like a bunker, utilizing it as escapism from their troubles. _This,_ though, was their genuine safe space—they weren’t confined to it for their own safety, they were free to come and go as they chose. That felt better than any time they ever spent together in Bubby’s dorm.

He’d been hoping to get out the door before Harold woke, though; not anything against him, of course. It was just generally easier to convince himself to leave on his own when he didn’t have Harold standing right behind him.

Bubby gave him a brisk nod. “Yeah. I was just going to go to the mall.”

“Oh! I could drive you, if you’d like.” Harold offered.

Bubby entertained the thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No, that’s okay. I was going to take the bus.”

Harold nodded in understanding. “Alright then, dear. Just call me if you need me.”

“Okay.” Bubby replied, turning back to the front door and putting his hand on the doorknob.

He had been out on his own before, obviously. Mostly just walks along trails and around parks, checking out bugs, plants, and any little animals he spotted. He wasn’t a full on bird watcher or anything, but he did like to make notes of what he found. It was shockingly easy the first time—purely due to dissociation, he thought in retrospect. Contrary to what his therapist had promised, being out on his own only seemed to be getting harder; that was clearly demonstrated by the fact that he still hadn’t opened the door.

Harold had already moved on to the kitchen, giving Bubby privacy to hype himself up and go. He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pushed the door open.

“Love you, dear!” Harold called.

“Love you, too.” Bubby called back before stepping out and shutting the door.

It was nice out today, he thought as he began walking to the bus stop just outside the general block of neighborhoods surrounding his house. Imagining himself just a few months ago, still stuck in Black Mesa, felt so much like a fever dream, now. Then again, everything around him now almost felt too good to be true. It was all so pointedly picturesque in a way that almost felt like he was staring at postcards, still holed up in his dorm, trying very, very hard to imagine a perfect life with Harold.

It _was_ perfect, wasn’t it? His own house, shared with his loving partner he had yearned for for much too long, neighbors with his friends who had clearly displayed an actual willingness to be around him, despite the bullshit he threw at them. Bubby stood at the bus stop, picking at the strap on his purse he’d started carrying around, considering many of his new clothes didn’t have pockets. Plus, he liked carrying extra things along with him. Books, notebooks, hand sanitizer—so much in the open world was so _filthy_ —soda, snacks, and whatever else seemed appropriate. It felt nice to be prepared.

It was wonderful. Everything he’d dreamed of and more, aside from the general lack of stimulating work. He just didn’t always feel...connected to it. How could this be his life? Didn’t he belong deep underground, hidden from the general world around him?

But he was here now, he reminded himself as he boarded the bus and sat down in an empty seat. Someone was playing some shitty pop music out loud from their little music player.

“Would you turn that off?” Bubby demanded, turning back to them vaguely. “Not everyone wants to hear that shit.”

The music turned off.

Bubby sighed a little, settling into his seat more comfortably. He could remember the first time he had ever been out in public at all; it felt so different, then. A little overwhelming, but magical and romantic, considering it had been the night Harold snuck him out of Black Mesa. _This_ wasn’t magical. He was riding a bus, like everyone else; it was mundane. Nothing. Normal. What his friends were already used to.

Bubby watched as the bus rolled up to another stop, a man beginning to climb in and pay his fare. Bubby’s eyes widened, breath catching in his throat.

The name was already beginning to form in his mouth before the man turned to find a seat, and suddenly, Bubby didn’t recognize him, anymore; he had looked so remarkably like Dr. Breen, administrator of Black Mesa, the man who had laughed in his face when he asked for simple freedoms. Bubby swallowed hard as the stranger moved past him to sit down somewhere else.

His heart was threatening to pound out of his chest as he sat there, struggling to get himself under control. He took one deep breath, then another, squeezing his purse strap tightly in his hands. Dr. Breen was...somewhere else. He didn’t know where—but no matter where he happened to be, at least he knew Breen no longer had a reason to try and keep him in containment, anymore. And even if he did, what was he going to do? Come knocking on his door and ask him to come back? Bubby had a house, a bank account, real identification, and many friends who would come to his defense. He didn’t have to be afraid, anymore, he reassured himself.

Bubby still hopped off the bus a couple stops too soon, according to his bus guide, just to get away from the man. He felt significantly more at ease as he watched the bus go on ahead of him, carrying the Breen lookalike far, far away.

Bubby bit his lip as he looked at the world around him. The endless expanse of sky, all the unknown, unpredictable surroundings; in a rush of familiar panic, a reoccurring thought that Bubby despised flooded back to him. He wanted to go back. He wanted familiarity. He wanted the safety of surroundings he knew—and he knew Black Mesa better than he even knew his current house. He wanted to go back to his dorm he’d spent decades living in and hide away under his old, shitty, Black Mesa-provided blanket that was just a little too thin and rough, but familiar all the same. 

Bubby didn’t belong up here on the surface. He had no business owning a house, making his own trips to the grocery store, just _deciding_ to go out and exist around others. He was the product of decades of research—all belonging to a facility that was no longer in operation. So, effectively, Bubby no longer had any place in life, did he?

Bubby shook his head feverishly and fumbled for his cell phone, pulling it out and flipping it open to dial Harold’s number.

“Hello, dear!” Harold’s reassuring voice chirped as Bubby continued walking.

“Hi, Harold.” Bubby replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “...S-sorry. Are you busy?”

“Not at all! I was just watching TV. What is it?”

Bubby shook his head. “Nothing. I just...w-well, I thought I saw Dr. Breen. I just needed...umm...”

Bubby pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to articulate what he needed. He wasn’t even sure—he didn’t want to give up, he was so close to the mall, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to hang up.

“Do you need me to come get you?” Harold offered gently.

“No.” Bubby muttered, pushing one foot in front of the other and focusing on the way his boots moved in and out of his line of sight. “J-just...could you...just talk to me?”

“Of course, dear. Would you...like to talk about Dr. Breen? Or would you like a distraction?”

“What are you watching?”

“Well, I dropped the remote somewhere, so now I’m stuck watching this dreadful soap opera.” Harold huffed, going on to describe the plot.

It eased Bubby significantly, hearing his voice, even if he wasn’t processing what Harold said most of the time. Eventually, it grew easier to breathe and look up at where he was for longer than a few seconds. This was it—he didn’t belong _nowhere_ , he belonged with Harold. Maybe his therapist would scold him a little bit for that one; something about him not needing a purpose to exist, he was his own person, his desires were inherently valuable on their own because they were _his_ own desires, et cetera, et cetera. But it brought him a little bit of much needed comfort in the moment, hearing his partner’s voice, remembering Harold’s consistent, clear intent on keeping him around. Bubby let out a deep, relieved breath.

“...Thank you, Harold.” Bubby sighed.

“Of course! How are you doing? Do you need anything else?”

Bubby paused to think about it. “...No, I’ll be alright. Thanks. I’m gonna go.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“You, too. See you in a little while.”

Bubby pressed on to the mall, relaxing a little as he stepped into the enclosed space. He wandered around for a little while before ordering himself a coffee and settling down in the food court. He sipped his coffee slowly, trying to focus on his book—normally, he tried to be a little more secretive about the romance novels he liked to read, but nobody here knew him, so he figured it’d be fine—only to find himself heavily distracted by the noises around him. He was wondering if he should head outside, find somewhere else to read when someone sat down in front of him.

“Oh, Benry.” Bubby greeted, not-too-stealthily stowing his book back in his bag. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you were at home.”

Benry shrugged. “Yeah, I dunno, now I’m here. You know how it is.”

“...I don’t think I do.”

“So what’re you up to, man?” Benry asked, reaching to steal a sip of his coffee.

Bubby swatted his hand away, pulling his coffee back towards himself. “Can a man not sit in a mall and drink coffee without getting interrogated over it?”

“Sit in a mall, drink coffee, and read some fuckin’—some romance book?” Benry chided with a smile.

“Oh, shut up, Benry, _you_ of all people can’t embarrass me.” Bubby lied.

“What’s that one about?”

“...It’s about two people who find each other across different realities. Sort of sci-fi themed.” Bubby admitted, adjusting his glasses on his face. “The science is completely bullshit in every way, but...you know.”

“That sounds really sweet.” Benry replied. He seemed earnest—for however obnoxious he seemed like he was going to be about it seconds ago, he now seemed genuinely interested. “Like, they’re traveling around other dimensions or whatever?”

Bubby nodded. “Yeah. And the thing about it is, they could absolutely stop and settle down in any given reality they travel to, because there’s always alternate versions of them. But it’s the _specific_ versions of each other that they care for most. It’s...nice.”

“Sick. That sounds cool.” Benry said, resting his head in his palm. “That’s sorta like, uhhh...like you and Dr. Coomer, right?”

Bubby stared at Benry for a long moment. “What? No. There was only—” Bubby stopped suddenly, remembering all the clones and prototypes. He crossed his arms, finally allowing Benry to steal a sip of his coffee. “...Huh. I guess it is.”

“Yeah, like, there was all that shit about all the other versions of you guys. ‘Cept they’re all dead now. You know.” Benry went on with a shrug, setting Bubby’s coffee back where it belonged.

Bubby’s stomach twisted a little bit at that. “...Yeah. They are. Well—I guess all the clones returned to Harold, actually, so I don’t know that they’re really... _dead?_ That’s complicated. But the prototypes...yeah.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Bubby wiping off his coffee lid with a napkin from his bag before taking another sip.

“Hey, Benry.” Bubby said.

“Hm?”

“What do _you_ think of our actions in the game?” Bubby asked, looking at him closely.

“Whuh...?”

“Well—you were being an asshole about it, but you seem to be the only other one who’s _really_ willing to think about the game’s impact on the way we acted.” Bubby went on, putting his hand to his chin thoughtfully. “Not even Harold likes to think about it. When he does, he gets all weird—and I think he was the one who was impacted the most. It was almost impossible for him to think about anything other than...actually, just _anything._ All he wanted was to help Gordon, but something about the way the programming impacted him just...well, you saw it.”

Benry shrugged. “Iunno. I don’t really know what else I’d say about it. It was just fucked up.”

Bubby huffed, resting his chin on top of his fist as he circled his finger around the edge of his coffee cup’s lid. “Well, there were pre-determined things that happened in the game. Moments that were scripted, and were always meant to happen. Gordon was always supposed to get ambushed, I think, but we provided a further explanation for it, which even resulted in him getting his arm cut off.”

“Wasn’t that Forzen’s fault? Or whatever? Why are _we_ to blame?”

“Well, _was_ it Forzen? Or just some other soldier NPC?”

Benry shrugged again. “Didn’t see.”

“But—well, I don’t know, that’s not the point I’m trying to make.” Bubby said dismissively, taking a moment to think his words over. “There were things that were _meant_ to happen in the game. We weren’t supposed to go with Gordon the whole time, I don’t think, but we did.”

Benry paused for a long moment before shrugging, yet again.

“The game was about a catastrophic event that killed nearly everybody in Black Mesa, except for Gordon Freeman.” Bubby continued, staring down at his coffee cup. “We’re lucky to be alive for many reasons.”

“...Yeah?”

“So...all of those prototypes.” Bubby said slowly, pausing to sip his coffee. “They were always _supposed_ to die.”

Benry didn’t say anything.

“They were never going to make it out of Black Mesa. I was the only one who achieved self-awareness out of all of them, and I was the only one who befriended Gordon. None of those alternate versions ever truly mattered at all, other than to provide an obstacle for him and populate Black Mesa.” Bubby said uncomfortably. “They never mattered to anyone. They were just...”

Bubby trailed off, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and staring hard at the table.

“Well, I’m sure they mattered to _someone._ ” Benry pointed out.

“Not in the context of the game.” Bubby replied defensively.

“Yeah, but like, you have your backstory or whatever, right?”

“... _Yeah_ , but does the backstory even matter?” Bubby questioned, looking at Benry carefully. “You don’t remember yours, and you’re doing just fine.”

Benry shrank in his seat a little, looking away.

“...What, do you wish you remembered?” Bubby asked.

Benry stared at something to his right closely for a long moment, until his eyes seemed to unfocus a bit; he shifted in his seat, putting an arm over the back of the chair and crossing one leg over the other. He reached out to steal another sip from Bubby’s coffee, and Bubby swatted his hand away again.

“What were we talking about?” Benry asked him suddenly.

“...Nothing.” Bubby sighed, collecting his things. “I think I’m just going to go home.”

“Hey, wait.”

Bubby paused, looking at Benry expectantly.

“Can I borrow that book when you’re done with it?”

Bubby glanced down at his bag, fishing the book out and handing it over to Benry. “...I don’t want it anymore. Take it.”

Benry accepted it with gentle hands. “Why not? It sounds cute.”

Bubby gritted his teeth, looking away. “It’s—it’s going to make me think too much about Black Mesa, now. I don’t want to think about it.”

“I don’t think Dr. Coomer thought your prototypes were interchangeable.” Benry said suddenly, far too casually.

Bubby huffed, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I don’t—I wasn’t worried about that.”

“...Okay.”

“Keep the coffee, too, whatever.” Bubby grumbled, sliding it too harshly towards him. Benry barely managed to catch it before it slid off the edge of the table.

Bubby left Benry alone in the food court as he headed back towards the bus stop home. Benry had been a little more on the nose than he’d liked—he _had_ been thinking about that back in Black Mesa, when he saw Coomer clones talking to prototypes. The clones couldn’t leave Black Mesa, just like Bubby and all his prototypes—that put clones and prototypes on the same level. Meaning it was more likely for clones of Harold to potentially date _them_ , when Bubby couldn’t date the Harold he loved.

That wasn’t so much of a concern, anymore; he’d forced it out of his mind, and now, it didn’t matter. _That_ wasn’t what was upsetting him now, as he waited for his bus. He forced in a deep breath, doing his best not to push his current discomfort away dismissively. He felt...bad. Perhaps guilty, he thought.

Thinking about the prototypes made him feel guilty. Bubby hung onto that, allowing the thought to exist without judgment in his head. His previous discomfort didn’t necessarily ring true, anymore, now that he was out in the real world; so what if prototypes got close with clones? Being around Harold was one of the only things that made living in Black Mesa bearable. The prototypes deserved that just as much as he did.

It had made him so upset back then, though—at least he’d pushed it down enough to never act out over it, but the way he had thought about the prototypes wasn’t fair. In any moment he interacted with any of them, he’d treated them with impatience, like he was far superior over them. More deserving of the freedoms he was awarded, and more deserving of potential freedoms to come. They were _incomplete_ , and he was the powerful final product.

And now, he was the only one left, because the game had arbitrarily decided _he_ was the one who deserved to live more than the others. Was he grateful for that? He wondered as he watched his bus approach.

Bubby sighed deeply as he sat down on the bus. He wondered how Harold thought of the prototypes, now that they were gone.

As Bubby returned to the house, he set his bag down on the little table beside the door with a sigh, kicking off his boots before heading further inside. He found Harold sitting cross-legged on the floor in the living room, peering into a large black case he recognized instantly. Harold looked up at him with a wide smile, pulling a saxophone from the case.

“I finally replaced it!” Harold announced. He put the mouthpiece in his mouth and tried to play a note, producing a high-pitched squeak. He huffed, twisting at the mouthpiece hastily. “Ahh, the reed dried out.”

Bubby sat down on the couch closest to Harold, looking the saxophone over carefully. “That looks like a really nice one.” He commented.

Harold put the reed in his mouth with an enthusiastic, “mm-hmm!”

Bubby leaned in close, experimentally pressing the buttons as it sat in Harold’s lap. He didn’t know how to play, but it was hard not to get tangentially interested in something Harold was passionate about. Harold tried to say something around the reed in his mouth, making it impossible to understand him.

“What?” Bubby asked.

Harold pulled the reed out. “How was your day?”

Bubby shrugged. “Alright. I ran into Benry.”

“Oh—I could have sworn he was here.”

“Right? He was at the mall, though.” Bubby replied. “I also saw a Scottish terrier.”

“Ooh! That’s exciting!” Harold said with a grin. “Oh! By the way! I just remembered, I got us a reservation at a very nice restaurant nearby, if you’d be interested in going out for dinner tonight.”

“A reservation?” Bubby questioned. “Isn’t that something only particularly fancy restaurants do?”

“Not exclusively, but this one does just happen to be particularly fancy.” Harold answered. “Does that sound nice to you?”

Bubby shrugged. “Sure. What time?”

“The reservation is for six o’clock.” Harold replied, then placed the reed back in his mouth.

“Alright. That sounds good to me.”

After Harold was done wetting his reed, he reassembled the mouthpiece and put it back on. He took a second to warm up before he began playing enthusiastically. Bubby leaned against the arm of the couch, just enjoying the music. Once he was done playing, they fell back into their familiar routines with each other before it was time to get ready to go. He looked at what Harold picked out to wear as they stood at their closet, furrowing his brow as he tried to match how fancy he went. Harold was going for slacks, a button-up and tie, his nice bisexual pride flag suspenders and a sort of tacky blazer—tacky, but adorable on him. He looked back at his own choices, chewing on his lip thoughtfully.

He’d been exploring different clothing choices, recently, now that it was easier for him to choose what he bought. He _really_ liked dresses and skirts; he’d sort of dismissed it at first as a comfort thing—they _were_ typically much more comfortable—but it was getting sort of hard to deny that maybe there was something a little deeper to it. What was he going to do, though? Start changing the way he thought of himself at his age? He’d gone this long without a thought towards his gender at all, why all the complex feelings _now?_ He wondered. Uncertainly, he picked out one of the dresses Harold had said he thought would look nice on him, holding it up for Harold to look at as he sat back on the edge of the bed.

“Is this appropriate?” He asked.

Harold nodded enthusiastically. “I think that’ll be wonderful!”

Bubby pulled it on, brushing it out and looking in the mirror. He liked it, he thought, turning a little to examine it closer. It felt good. _Very_ good. He was still comfortable in his more “masculine” clothes, that all just felt like a baseline normal. But it certainly had never occurred to him that clothes could feel _good._ He caught Harold’s eye in the mirror as he sat behind him, a loving expression clear on his face. Bubby crossed his arms over his chest, heat rushing to his cheeks. “Does it look okay?” He asked.

Harold stood to approach Bubby. Bubby turned to face him, Harold taking each of his hands in his own.

“You look perfect.” Harold said.

Bubby’s face flushed more, averting his eyes and squeezing Harold’s hands. “...Thanks, Harold. You do, too.”

They arrived at the restaurant not too long after, getting seated at a table by the wall—a good choice, Bubby always preferred to have his back to a wall if he could help it. He sank down awkwardly in his seat, drumming his fingers on the table. There was someone actually performing piano live on the other side of the restaurant, other patrons were dressed up even nicer than himself and Harold, and all the waiters were wearing uniforms that really did _not_ look comfortable to work in. The prices on the food were insane, too—not that it was an issue for them, but it became more of a matter of principle to Bubby as he looked it over, reaching absent-mindedly for some of the bread already on the table.

“I didn’t expect it to be _this_ nice.” Bubby muttered.

“Well, I told you it was going to be fancy!”

“Yeah, but—this was sort of one of those things that I assumed TV played up.” Bubby replied.

Harold chuckled. “Sometimes. To be honest, it’s...a little more than I was expecting, though.”

They both sat there, looking over their menus carefully. Bubby drummed his fingers on the table more insistently, glancing around at the other customers. He felt wildly out of place. That wasn’t a unique feeling—he normally felt out of place pretty much anywhere he went—but something about the atmosphere of the restaurant was _really_ starting to get under his skin.

“Are you feeling alright?” Harold asked.

Bubby set his menu down. “This place is _so_ pretentious.”

Harold let out a deeply relieved sigh and nodded. “It _is._ I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea, I always hated going to fancy places with Veronica.”

“Do you want to go?”

Harold nodded and stood. “Would you like to go to McDonald’s instead?”

Bubby stood as well. “...How about those chili dogs at that gas station?”

Harold smiled as Bubby picked up his bag. “Oh, fantastic idea! Let’s do it.”

“Umm—do we have to pay for the bread if we didn’t order anything?” Bubby asked uncertainly.

Harold paused, glancing at the bread basket and then the waiters around them. “...I don’t know. Let’s just go, and if they stop us, we’ll—”

“Run?”

Harold snickered as he took Bubby’s hand. “Sure.”

Bubby and Harold left in a hurry, relaxing significantly once they were in their car. They drove to the gas station, picked up their food and headed to the nearby park, sitting down on a bench to eat. This felt a lot better—Harold and Bubby hadn’t been on many official dates yet, just due to the fact that they already lived together and knew each other so well, but he always enjoyed ones that went a little off the rails much better. The classic, stereotypical date nights they mirrored from TV never felt quite so genuine as them just going with dumb little impulses. And they were both _very_ impulsive people, making for some interesting date nights. They ate their food in relative silence, just enjoying the evening air together until they were done eating.

“How are you feeling about your adjustment, Bubby?” Harold asked, taking Bubby’s hand in his own.

“...Good.” Bubby replied, leaning against Harold’s shoulder. “It feels sort of overwhelming, sometimes, but...it’s good. Ummm—the...therapy helps. Thanks for convincing me to go.”

“Of course.” Harold said with a smile. “I’m very, _very_ happy to see you adjusting outside of Black Mesa. I only wish this could have happened sooner.”

Bubby shrugged. “It’s fine. Worrying about the timing doesn’t actually do me any favors.”

Harold nodded. “...Of course. You’re right.”

“What about _you?_ ” Bubby asked, tilting his head up a little to see Harold better.

Harold gave him a surprised look. “What do you mean?”

Bubby sat up a little to look at him better. “You were mistreated by Black Mesa, too. The clones...”

Harold frowned, squeezing Bubby’s hand tightly. “Well—that wasn’t me. The clones are gone, Bubby.”

Bubby didn’t feel convinced. The clones and Harold were sort of seamless, sometimes, back in Black Mesa. They all shared their experiences; so Harold, although he could leave Black Mesa, still would have experienced feeling trapped. At least, that made logical sense to Bubby—he never mentioned it whenever Bubby tried to ask him about it. Bubby decided to drop it, though.

“What about the game, then?” He asked instead.

“Well...you know. I feel fine.” Harold replied nonchalantly, loosening his grip on Bubby’s hand. “I only _sometimes_ react poorly to something that reminds me of the game. Otherwise, I truly, genuinely feel fine.”

“Are you _sure?_ Don’t you think you’re just pushing it all aside?” Bubby questioned doubtfully. “You really might benefit from therapy, too, Harold.”

“...I don’t know.” Harold murmured. “To be honest, I’ve...already _been_ to therapy. I can’t imagine what else I could take away from it if I went now.”

“What? When?”

“After my divorce.” Harold replied, squeezing Bubby’s hand a little again. “I never mentioned it, because I didn’t want you to worry. Plus, it felt...strange, that I felt _worse_ after the divorce for a period of time than I did while I was married, despite how unhealthy that relationship was. I didn’t quite know what to make of it or how to bring it up with you.”

“...Yeah.” Bubby muttered knowingly. “Well, I don’t know. I think you could at least afford to try it.”

Harold sighed. “Perhaps.”

After a moment of silence, Bubby shifted a little closer to Harold. “Can I ask you a question about Black Mesa?”

“Of course, Bubby.”

“...How did you feel about the prototypes?” Bubby asked carefully. “I saw your clones were close with some of them.”

Harold gave Bubby a surprised look. “Oh, well...those were my clones. So...well, it’s not necessarily tied to how _I_ felt about them.”

“I’m not asking because I’m jealous or anything.” Bubby said dismissively. “Well—maybe I would have been before, but things are different now. I’m genuinely just interested to hear how they felt.”

Harold bit his lip as he fiddled with his tie for a long moment. “...Um...to be honest, I don’t really remember.”

“...Oh. I thought you shared memories with all of your clones.”

“Yes, technically.” Harold nodded slowly. “It’s a _lot_ of memories, though. Strangely, once all of the clones returned to me, I...lost quite a large portion of those memories.”

Bubby squeezed Harold’s hand. “...That’s strange. You also _do_ lose time, now that we’re out of the game. That never happened before.”

“...I do?”

Bubby pulled away from Harold so he could look at him straight on, taking Harold’s other hand. “You do. Remember? You ask me sometimes how long we’ve been out of Black Mesa, or you just forget certain periods of time. Sometimes a whole day.”

Harold frowned deeply. “...Oh...I don’t recall. Should I—should I go to a doctor?”

“Maybe. I suggested it once, and you said no.”

“Oh, dear. That’s so strange.” Harold muttered. “I think I’ll make an appointment tomorrow. If I forget, _please_ remind me.”

“Of course I will.”

Harold pulled Bubby in close again, holding him tightly. “How often do I forget things?”

“Not _that_ often. It always seems to be whenever something’s upset you. You just...” Bubby paused, trying to think of a way to put it. “You act differently. Sometimes, you remind me of your clones a little bit. Like—remember when Darnold came over for boxing that first time?”

“...Vaguely.”

“You acted so much like one of the clones I met who worked on the Gamma team.” Bubby recalled.

Harold hummed thoughtfully. “Well...the cloning technology was experimental. Perhaps...I wasn’t meant to take back in all of those clones like that.”

Harold hugged Bubby tighter, his muscles tensing around him. Bubby squeezed him back.

“It’ll be alright, Harold.” Bubby reassured him. “We’ll figure it out.”


	21. REPORT: Regarding D.Pepper's exploration of reality

Tommy was a morning person. Sometimes he’d work late into the night, but right as the sun began to rise, he’d be up—no hope of sleeping in to make up for lost time. Darnold, on the other hand, was a bit of a late riser; Tommy noticed without any particular reason to be up early, he’d quickly devolve into a late night sleep schedule. Sometimes, when Tommy was having trouble getting to sleep, he’d hear Darnold playing video games on voice chat or downstairs in the kitchen. It wasn’t like it kept him up; he was used to sleeping through other people’s noise, and it was reassuring to hear Darnold peacefully doing his own thing. He was a good roommate and a good friend. Hearing the evidence of someone he trusted being around, just in case he was needed, was usually a good way to fall asleep.

Tommy had been up for a couple hours already when he heard the stairs creaking. He looked up from the Beyblade set he was currently focused on set out at the table, watching Darnold yawn as he joined Tommy in the kitchen.

“Morning.” Darnold mumbled.

Tommy smiled at Darnold, politely not commenting on the fact that it was past noon as Sunkist was quick to greet him. Darnold leaned down to kiss her head sleepily. “Hi, baby.” He murmured, scratching the sides of her head before moving on towards the coffee machine. Tommy loved seeing him first thing after he woke up—he was always so cute when he was sleepy.

“I just made more coffee.” He pointed out.

“Oh, cool. Thanks.”

Darnold poured himself some coffee and sat down, picking up the book he always left at the table; he made a habit of having something set out at the table to read while he was drinking coffee or eating alone. They’d usually end up sitting like this around this time of day, quietly focusing on their own activities in each others’ presence. Tommy liked that quite a bit—he’d usually found growing up if he didn’t want to be alone, he had to either find someone sharing his very particular current interest, or sacrifice his own interest entirely to get involved in someone else’s. Or, as he usually ended up doing, just accepting the loneliness. _This_ was nice, though; he loved being able to just sit with Darnold in almost total silence without judgment while they got to focus on their own things, save for the times Darnold would rant about how dumb a book he was reading was. Tommy enjoyed that a lot, too.

This time, though, Darnold set his book aside with a deep sigh after a few minutes, dragging his palms down his face. “I’m _really_ fucking bored, Tommy.”

“...Right now, or in general?” Tommy asked.

“In general.” Darnold answered, tapping his fingers against his mug. “I didn’t expect being set for life and never having to work would drive me nuts.”

Tommy nodded knowingly. “Yeah. Me too, honestly.”

As if on cue, Tommy jumped in surprise when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Tommy fished it out, looking at the caller ID. Tommy held up a finger to Darnold and flipped his phone open. “Hi, Dr. Coomer.”

“Hello, Tommy!” Dr. Coomer greeted. “Are you with Darnold?”

“Oh, yeah. Umm, should I put you on speaker?”

“Yes, please.”

Tommy hit the speaker button and set his phone down between himself and Darnold. “Okay, you’re on speaker.” Tommy announced.

“Wonderful! Bubby and I have been planning a trip, and we thought we’d extend an invitation to everyone.” Dr. Coomer explained. “We’re going to the beach in California!”

“Ooh, California. That’s a long drive.” Darnold commented.

“Oh, no, we were planning on flying.”

Darnold immediately tensed.

“Bubby’s never been to the beach, so I thought it might be a fun first trip.” Dr. Coomer went on. “Would you like to join us? We’re planning on inviting Gordon, Joshua, and Benry as well.”

“I’d love to go.” Tommy replied. “It’s not like I, uhh—like I have anything else to do.”

“Excellent! Perhaps you two should come over in the next...say, half an hour? So we can buy all our tickets together.”

“Okay. See you in a few, then.” Tommy said, picking up his phone.

“Okay! I love you both!”

Tommy smiled. “I love you too, Dr. Coomer.”

Tommy flipped his phone shut, setting it aside and turning to Darnold.

“I, uhhh...might not go.” Darnold said, anxiously picking at the corner of his book. “The idea of flying kinda freaks me out.”

“Oh.” Tommy replied, trying not to sound too disappointed. “Well...that’s okay, if—if you don’t wanna go. But maybe, ummm...you and me could just drive there instead?”

Darnold gave Tommy a surprised look. “Oh, well, I mean—I don’t wanna make you suffer through such a long drive just for me.”

“I don’t mind! I’ve umm—I’ve never gotten to go on a big road trip or anything.”

“Really? Me neither.” Darnold said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I almost did. To Colorado, actually. It, uhhh...didn’t really pan out, though.”

“Well, we could—we could experience it together.” Tommy suggested with a smile.

Darnold’s face flushed as he looked away. “Y-yeah. That sounds cool.”

Oh, he was so adorable, Tommy couldn’t help but think as he smiled a little wider. It was too bad, really—Darnold probably didn’t feel the same way. He was just shy; that was probably why he’d get all blushy whenever Tommy did or said anything friendly.

Tommy and Darnold quickly got ready to head over to Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s house for trip planning, finding Benry was already there—probably staying with them for the time being, if Tommy had to guess. He hadn’t seen him ever since he’d kicked him out, he remembered anxiously. He was sat at the table with Dr. Coomer and Bubby, fully immersed in his Gameboy as Bubby scribbled in a notepad.

“Hi.” Tommy greeted as he took a seat at the table.

Benry finally looked up at Tommy. “Sup.” He replied casually, looking back down at his game.

“What happened to your coffee table?” Darnold asked, nodding into the living room at the coffee table, which was split in half down the middle.

“Oh, Bubby and I got a little too excited about a match.” Dr. Coomer replied with a grin. “He tossed me into the table and it broke.”

“You could probably replace it with something sturdier.” Darnold said with an amused laugh.

“But what’s the point of throwing him at the coffee table if it doesn’t break?” Bubby questioned.

Darnold didn’t seem to know how to reply to that as Benry and Tommy snickered. “Uhh, we were thinking of driving there instead.” Darnold said instead. “So I guess we’d just head out, like, a day before you guys and meet you there?”

“Oh, are you nervous about flying?” Dr. Coomer asked as he eased back down into his chair.

“Well—the flying, and also TSA, and also getting there on time, and...y’know, just generally every aspect of it.”

“See? I’m not the only one!” Bubby pointed out to Dr. Coomer.

Just as Tommy and Darnold were settling down, there was another knock at the door. Dr. Coomer stood to answer it again, predictably revealing Gordon and Joshua.

“Howdy.” Gordon greeted as they headed into the kitchen. “How’s it going, everybody?”

Benry finally set down his Gameboy, glancing between Gordon and Joshua. Tommy watched closely, curious how this would play out.

Gordon also pointedly looked between Benry and Joshua, brushing his hair back awkwardly before letting out a tense breath and speaking. “You wanna meet Benry, Josh?” He asked gently.

Benry held out his hand for a handshake. Joshua looked up at Gordon for confirmation before approaching, placing his tiny hand in Benry’s.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Benry greeted formally. “You’re the tiniest little dude I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m two.” Joshua replied.

Benry’s face split into a wide grin. “Hi, two, I’m Benry.”

Joshua made a grouchy expression as Gordon burst out laughing. Tommy smiled a little. His own unresolved issues with Benry aside, it was nice to see them getting along for once. Soon, Gordon and Joshua sat down as well, Gordon setting up his laptop.

“Here, I can buy everyone’s tickets online so we don’t have to go through that whole phone call bullshit.” Gordon offered.

“Uhh—Tommy and I are driving.” Darnold informed him.

“Yeah, I think driving is a much better option.” Bubby agreed.

Gordon frowned, typing away at his computer for a second. “...You sure? It’s gonna be about 15 hours of driving.”

“ _What?!_ ” Bubby exclaimed. “15 hours? How fucking big is this stupid continent?”

“Oh, man, trust me. 15 hours is nothing.” Gordon said dismissively. “Try driving from _Seattle_ to here in a big old moving truck. That’s like, what, 24 full hours?”

“...Did you live in Seattle before?” Tommy asked curiously.

Gordon paused, staring out at open space for a moment. “...Huh. Yeah, I guess I did...?”

“Isn’t there anything faster that _doesn’t_ involve a plane?” Bubby complained.

“Unfortunately, it’s either that or drive.” Dr. Coomer answered mournfully.

“...Fine. I guess I can try flying.” Bubby huffed, crossing his arms uncomfortably.

“Okay. So that’s...all of us, except Tommy and Darnold?” Gordon asked. “Give me your IDs so I can make sure I’m spelling everything right.”

Dr. Coomer and Bubby reached into their pockets, pulling out their wallets. Gordon turned pointedly to Benry, who hadn’t made a move to take anything out.

“You got an ID?” Gordon asked him.

“No, you fuckin’—you destroyed my passport, bro.” Benry replied, picking his Gameboy back up.

Gordon barked out a loud laugh. “Holy shit, now _you’re_ the one without a passport?! Are you serious?”

“What am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can get another one.” Benry grumbled.

“You go to the passport office, man! We all went pretty much as soon as we got here from the game!”

Benry groaned for a solid 10 seconds straight as Gordon laughed at him.

“Actually, I—he might still be legally dead.” Tommy commented thoughtfully. “I’m not sure he _can_ get another passport without—without, uhhh, a whole lot of trouble.”

“That’s a very good point.” Dr. Coomer muttered, putting his hand to his chin. “Perhaps Benry could join Darnold and Tommy.”

“Y’know, if so many of us are driving and Bubby’s freaked out by flying, why don’t we all drive?” Gordon suggested. “I’d feel bad leaving all that driving to Tommy and Darnold. If we rent a big car, we could share the driving responsibilities. Between like, you two and me and Dr. Coomer, that’d be...what, only three and a half-ish hours of driving per person?”

“That’s a good point.” Dr. Coomer nodded. “What do you think, Bubby?”

“Listen, you all clearly know better than I do on this.” Bubby huffed irritably. “Whatever we end up doing, I’ll survive.”

****

Darnold hadn’t had one of his strange anxiety episodes in a long time. He’d been thinking about it, now that he had the time and space to do so—or, rather, he had no excuse not to, anymore.

He’d wondered about the correlation between the void he saw in the game and his episodes. They were both, very broadly speaking, experiences that felt like he’d stepped out of what was considered “real”. Given the fact that he stopped having episodes when he started working at Black Mesa, and then Black Mesa turned out to be the setting for a video game, it was...

An interesting correlation, to say the least.

He hadn’t had an episode ever since _leaving_ Black Mesa, too, but how much exploration had he actually done? He sort of just fell back into his old habits, sticking to a singular routine, anything that he’d already deemed to be safe. He found one nice restaurant he liked to go to and pretty much just stuck to that, avoiding exploring too much if he could help it. He always took the same route to the grocery store, even if there was traffic, and just turned around and went home if there was a road block. He hadn’t even thought about it; this had been his entire life, avoiding anything he’d deemed to be “unsafe” for him by purely sticking to his safe spots, so it came much too natural to him now that he was back in what could be considered a normal life.

His opportunity to explore his limits was coming up, what with the road trip. He pictured having an episode the minute they left the city, though, just like all those years ago, and having to demand everyone drop everything to take him home. That was embarrassing enough the first time around; he wasn’t about to let that happen again with new friends.

Darnold was currently lying awake in bed, contemplating this as he tried desperately to fix his sleep schedule before the trip. Making up his mind, though, he rolled out of bed and crept down the stairs, careful not to wake Tommy as he took only his cell phone, wallet, and keys out to his car.

Darnold stuck in one of his CDs once he was in the car—a classic, Abba’s Mamma Mia album—and started driving. He deliberately took the opposite turn once he hit the fork in the road he’d usually take to the grocery store, bracing himself for an episode. When it didn’t hit, he let out a deep, relieved breath, continuing down the road without trouble.

He kept expecting it to hit. He’d imagine some sort of threshold up ahead, where everything would stop existing if he crossed over it—just like a video game, he thought with a bitter laugh—but no matter what unfamiliar road he drove over, no matter how far from home, Darnold remained firmly rooted in reality.

Darnold kept driving. He left the city, crossed through the city next to it, and kept on going. He decided to drive a little more deliberately now, following road signs until he hit the interstate. He could see the sun beginning to peek over the horizon as he drove down the long stretch of road, nothing around him but wide open space and the occasional car zipping past on the other side. He’d hit so many false alarms by this point, he found it easy to just sit back a little bit, peacefully watching the sun rise and singing along quietly to Abba. It sort of reminded him of when he’d drive to the closest store for errands while he worked at Black Mesa—it was so far out of the way, he’d end up on long stretches of road like this before he finally reached the city.

It was weird to think back on that, he mused. If the game wasn’t real, what did that mean about the world they were in now?

It was sort of funny, actually, now that he thought back on it. What with his episodes and the way he ended up limiting himself to particular routes and a strict routine, keeping himself to specific interests and hobbies, he was sort of acting like an NPC all along, even outside of the game. Darnold laughed a little to himself, trailing off as he realized he didn’t actually find it very funny at all.

Darnold noticed the sign in the distance, the one he’d been waiting to see, reading “ _Welcome to Colorado!_ ” Darnold braced himself, sat up in his seat, took a deep breath, turned up his music and put both hands on the wheel. He’d never been outside New Mexico—what if he wasn’t _supposed_ to leave? He thought as fear began to rise up in his stomach.

Well, he was about to find out.

Darnold held his breath as he approached the sign, tightening his grip on the steering wheel as he counted down in his head. Three, two, one...

Darnold flew past the sign without trouble, nothing disappearing around him. The road still stretched out ahead of him, and he could still hear Abba. He let out a deep, relieved breath, pulling over and resting his forehead against the steering wheel. Everything was normal. More normal than it had ever been in his life.

That was sort of terrifying, right? What was stopping him from doing anything alarmingly stupid, now, if he had total control?

After a few minutes, Darnold pulled back onto the road, driving deeper into Colorado. Why shouldn’t he? He was free to do whatever he wanted, right? He wasn’t bound by the laws of being an NPC. He was just a guy, now. And anyone who was just a guy could drive through Colorado if they wanted to. That was his basic right as a regular person with free will.

Darnold drove for a while, stopping in a town with a nice little coffee shop. He felt a little bad about going in in his pajamas, but not bad enough to stop him; he sat there at one of the tables, sipping a really nice latte contemplatively. The place had some nice decorations. Somehow, it was picturesque of what he’d expected out of this state—they weren’t in the mountains just yet, but it was built and decorated like a little lodge by some sort of ski resort. Even now, towards the end of summer, he felt like he should be dressed up in his warmest clothes to brave the snow just outside.

Darnold jumped in surprise at the sensation of his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it open, finding several text messages from Tommy coming in one by one.  
  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** hey darnold where r u?  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** i see ur cars gone i thought maybe u went to the store but its been a while  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** u doing ok?  
**DARNOLD:** hey tommy! im fine  
**DARNOLD:** im just out for a drive  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** oh ok  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** r u driving right now? dont text and drive thats not safe :(  
**DARNOLD:** lol no im stopped for coffee rn  
**DARNOLD:** ill be back home in a little while  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** ok  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** have fun on ur drive  
**TOMMY!!☆♥☆:** b safe  
**DARNOLD:** thanks! i will

Darnold pocketed his phone and tipped his mug up to chug the rest of his coffee. Once he was finished, he hit the road again, driving further up into Colorado. He wasn’t sure at this point when he’d even make it back home; it was nice, though, not even having a plan. Just going for the sake of it, enjoying his music and taking in the sights. This was going to be a lot of fun with Tommy and the rest of the Science Team, Darnold thought as he pulled over at one of those scenic rest stops.

Darnold sat on the hood of his car, staring out at the mountains in front of him. He tried to take a picture, but the camera on his phone really didn’t do it justice—but maybe the real beauty of it was just that he could sit there and take it in, recognizing that he was right there in front of it, right then. He took in a deep breath of fresh air. The road trip with everyone else would be nice, but doing this on his own was so refreshing; he could just take his time, letting himself enjoy it until he felt like he was done, no worries about wasting anyone else’s time.

Besides, how much was he even wanted, anyway? Darnold couldn’t help but wonder. This was a thought process he tried very hard not to entertain, but it just kept popping up; maybe they’d have more fun without him, and it was just impolite not to invite him. Darnold let out a quiet sigh, fiddling with the drawstrings on his pajama pants. He wondered how much he would even be missed, if he just backed out at the last minute, staying home while everyone went and had fun at the beach.

Darnold looked down as he felt his phone rumbling in his pocket again—a phone call this time. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, surprised he was getting a signal at all, and glanced at the caller ID before answering.

“Hiya, Gordon.” Darnold greeted.

“Howdy, Darnold.”

“Hey, why do you say ‘howdy’?” Darnold asked impulsively. “You said you were from Seattle. That doesn’t seem like a Washington thing.”

“Huh? I don’t know.” Gordon replied dismissively. “I guess you’re out right now, but do you wanna come to dinner at my house tonight? I invited everyone else, too.”

“Oh, uhhh, I don’t know if I’ll be back in a reasonable time, but I’ll see if I can make it.” Darnold said, glancing up at the sky. It was early afternoon by now—it’d probably be pretty late by the time he got back.

“Damn, Tommy said you were out for a drive, how far did you go?” Gordon questioned.

“I’m in Colorado right now.”

“What? Why?”

“Iunno.”

“Well—I wanted to double check if you had any food allergies.” Gordon went on. “Tommy said he didn’t think you had any, but I wanna be sure.”

“Oh, I can’t have shellfish.” Darnold told him.

“Oh, _fuck._ ” Gordon cussed loudly. “I was making shrimp scampi.”

“Were you really?”

Gordon snorted on the other end. “No, I’m kidding. I’m making lasagna.”

“Dr. Freeman, I assume you probably don’t have any food restrictions, if you think I haven’t heard jokes like that more times than I could even count.” Darnold said flatly.

“Oh, I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Yeah, I _bet_ you are.”

“What?” Gordon laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Darnold laughed too. “I don’t know. Uhhh, actually—can I ask you something completely unrelated?”

“Yeah, shoot.”

Darnold paused, looking back up at the sky. “Do you think I would be different if I had gone with you during the game?”

Gordon didn’t reply for a bit. “What, like...do you think that would’ve changed you? Yeah, probably, it was...pretty traumatic.”

Darnold frowned. “No, that’s not what I mean. You’re probably right about that, though. It’s more like...I don’t know. I feel like I was just the most regular, run-of-the-mill NPC you could’ve possibly bumped into that was still like, self-aware. If I had been intended to be someone who went with you, I probably would’ve been pretty different, right?”

“...Uhhh...how so?”

“Like...y’know. Tommy’s the son of an alien and has powers. Dr. Coomer has all those helpful cybernetic enhancements. Bubby’s a super powerful tube-grown guy. Benry’s...uhhh...I actually have no idea what Benry is. But you know, that sort of thing. That’s all, like, kickass backstory stuff that had significance in the game. It added to the experience of the story, right? So like, I wasn’t really anybody special, just because I wasn’t... _needed_ , beyond giving you a new arm.”

Gordon was silent on the other end, long enough for Darnold to wonder if his call had been dropped. “I don’t know, man. Kinda hard to say. But what’s it matter?” He finally asked. “I mean—I don’t want to sound dismissive if this is something big that’s been on your mind for a while, it’s just like...we’re out of the game. You don’t have to base your significance on what the game arbitrarily decided you were supposed to be.”

“Yeah, I mean...that makes sense.” Darnold muttered. “I just sorta wish I’d been, like, more important. Y’know?”

“You _are_ important, Darnold.”

Darnold sat there in surprise for a moment. All he could get out was a dumbfounded, “huh?”

Gordon snickered a little bit on the end. “I care about you, dude. We all do. Just because you weren’t there for the big fight doesn’t mean you don’t matter to us.”

“Oh. I—I care about you guys, too.” Darnold replied, awkwardly but fully earnest. “Thanks, Gordon.”

“Plus, like, y’know...the things everyone else went through were pretty fucked up.” Gordon went on. “I wouldn’t want you to have had to go through something traumatic just to prove your importance to the group. You’re not just a character, anymore, so your worth isn’t tied to any sort of...character arc or a backstory for why you have, like, telekinesis or whatever, you know? You can just exist, now.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.” Darnold said, looking down at his free hand and flexing his fingers thoughtfully. “Thanks, Gordon. Really. Sorry to like, drop that all on you.”

“Nah, that’s fine! Don’t worry about it.”

“I’d uhh, better start driving now if I wanna make it back at a reasonable time.” Darnold said, hopping off the hood of his car. “If you guys start getting too hungry, don’t worry about waiting for me.”

“Alright, I mean, we’ll survive if we have to wait a little while. If it’s like, 8 and you’re still gone, though, I’ll just save some for you.”

“Thanks! I’ll see you when I get back.”

Darnold said goodbye to Gordon and flipped his phone shut before climbing back into his car and turning around. He hadn’t even realized how tense he’d been before the call with Gordon; all that was gone, now, as he hummed and carefully made his way down the winding mountain roads.


	22. REPORT: Regarding T.Coolatta's employment opportuinty (declined)

Tommy opened his eyes, immediately faced with a black void.

It wasn’t completely featureless, Tommy noticed with some mixture of comfort and terror as he looked around him. There were thin streaks of white zipping past him—like he was traveling in some sort of tunnel, watching tiny dots of light go by around him. He stood there, barefoot, in his pajamas, fully certain he had just been in bed a second ago. Tommy shivered and turned around.

“Hello, Tommy.”

Tommy found himself face-to-face with...what had he said to call him? G-Man? Tommy stared at him with wide eyes, expression blank, carrying his trademark briefcase to his side.

“Uhhh...” Tommy started, looking around the void they were in. “Where are we?”

“You don’t need to—concern, yourself with that, Tommy.” G-Man replied coolly. “I brought you here, because, you are rooted deeply within the...storyline, if you will. I have been...watching, and learning, ever since our last conversation. I have a theory that, if we work together...we could hold incredible power.”

Tommy paused, shuffling his feet on the cold not-surface below him and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “...I don’t...really want in—uhh, incredible power, though.”

“You don’t?” G-Man questioned, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you...humor, me, then? I want to show you something.”

“I don’t really want to.”

G-Man didn’t move a muscle. It was sort of eerie—he didn’t even blink or breathe, he just stood there, completely still. Eventually, Tommy caved and nodded.

“...Okay. But I really, umm—I really need to get back home soon, I need to be on time to start driving. We’re going on a—”

“A road, trip...yes, I’m aware.” G-Man nodded. “Not to worry. This is a place that exists outside of a human’s...conventional, understanding of time, and space. Now, I want you...to think back to Black Mesa.”

Tommy was silent, thinking about his old dorm, his HR office, the Nihilanth’s enclosure, and workspaces he shared with Bubby and Dr. Coomer.

“Are you envisioning it, Tommy?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. Now, do not, imagine someone you already knew. But I would like you...to think of someone who could, reasonably have existed, at Black Mesa.”

“...Like...make someone up?”

“Precisely.”

Tommy paused, drumming his fingers on his thighs as he thought. “...Okay. Ummm...I’m th-thinking of...someone named...M—uhhh, Mart...Martin...i.”

“...Martini?”

“Yeah.”

“Like the drink?”

“I’m not—I’m not really good at thinking of names on the spot.”

“What department did Martini work in?”

“Uuuummmm...” Tommy crossed his arms, tapping his heel against the cool surface he stood on. “Martini worked in...the Biodome complex.”

“What hours did Martini work?”

“Uhh—...what’s...what’s the point of this?” Tommy asked.

“Bear with me, Tommy.” G-Man replied. “What was Martini’s schedule?”

“Ummm...Martini was—uhhh, Martini worked in the observation rooms, so...g-...grave shift?” Tommy suggested tentatively. “So like...I guess...9:30pm to 6am. Tuesday through Saturday.”

“Did Martini like their job?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What sort of person was Martini like?”

“...Uhhh...theyyyy...were really passionate ab—uhhh, about their job. They were sort of...uhh, competitive, about how well they could do their job, and I think wanted to...climb the ladder, I guess? They...had a lot to prove. They just—they wanted recognition for their work.”

G-Man nodded. “Excellent. I think that should be enough. Now, let’s, go back.”

G-Man turned around. As he walked further down the strange void, he indicated for Tommy to follow. A sharp outline of a doorway of light formed in front of them; G-Man stepped through confidently, disappearing inside. Tommy stared at it in awe. He remembered this—it was just like that first time he’d been inside the Nihilanth, when he wanted to go home. Slowly, Tommy stepped through as well, closing his eyes against the blinding light.

****

Tommy experienced the jarring sensation of going from one cold, non-existent surface to a new, still cold, very real surface beneath him. He opened his eyes, finding himself inside an observation room of the Black Mesa Biodome complex, overlooking the strange fauna below. Tommy blinked a few times in surprise, looking at all the people milling about around him. They were all...familiar.

It would be easy to dismiss the repeated sights of Dr. Coomer and Bubby. There were prototypes and clones—Tommy knew this very well. However, there was something else he really hadn’t put a lot of thought into; now that he was faced with it again, though, after living what felt like a completely normal life post-game, Tommy finally recognized something that sent a deep shock through the core of his body.

They were all him.

Tommy stared in awe at the other Tommys who walked busily back and forth, staring out the window, making observations. It was dark outside; Tommy knew, on some level, that it must have been about 9:25pm.

“What’s...this?” Tommy asked G-Man.

“Just you wait.” G-Man replied, nodding towards the door.

Tommy looked to the side, watching it open and close. Another Tommy stepped in, a bag slung over his shoulder and a clipboard in hand. Tommy stared, realization hitting him in a harsh wave. That wasn’t just another Tommy—that was Martini. Tommy watched them in shocked silence as they set their bag down, taking a seat at the desk in front of the window and getting their work station ready wordlessly.

Nobody in the room acknowledged Tommy or G-Man—but that was a fact that was much easier for Tommy to swallow than everyone looking exactly like him. They weren’t actually physically _there_ ; Tommy didn’t need any sort of confirmation to know this. He shoved his hands in his pockets, picking at the seams inside them.

“Ummm...why do...they all look like me?” Tommy asked.

“You didn’t put any...consideration into the, appearance, of Martini.” G-Man answered simply. “I’ve been...experimenting some with this, ability, myself. I don’t have much of an imagination for, picturing what a human might look like. I went with what I am familiar with.”

“ _You_ made all of these people?” Tommy questioned, finally looking at G-Man. “...And you made them all to—to look like me?”

“Why not?”

“...It’s sorta weird.”

“Can I not...take pride in, the creation I took part in?”

Tommy grimaced. “This is...super, super weird. All of this. I don’t—...I don’t like it.”

“What do you...dislike, about it?”

“Uhhh...all of it?” Tommy said tentatively. “I don’t—...I don’t like you...stepping into my life and messing with things. And I don’t like—uhhh, I don’t like how you act like...prideful of me, when my whole life isn’t really your business, and I don’t like you just...making...copies of me? Or asking me to make a copy of me, and then—and then I...”

Tommy paused, looking at Martini. He took a few steps closer, placing a tentative hand on their shoulder. They didn’t notice the contact.

“All of these copies are...gonna die in the resonance cascade.” Tommy murmured. “I just—I just _made_ someone, only for the sole purpose of dying.”

“That’s what all humans are, Tommy.”

Tommy made a long, displeased noise, squeezing Martini’s shoulder. “That’s _really_ —I _hate_ that. Don’t say that.”

“It’s not anything...against humans.” G-Man replied, approaching Tommy and placing a hand on his shoulder. Tommy shrugged away from him. “Death, contributes to the ecosystem. All humans, have the pleasure of being a part of...a certain simplistic _oneness._ It’s beautiful, wouldn’t you say so?”

Tommy made another uncomfortable sound, crossing his arms and pacing back to where he’d been standing before, back turned to G-Man.

“Would you prefer...I stop, using your, likeness, to populate Black Mesa?” G-Man asked gently.

Tommy nodded vehemently.

“Noted. I will stop using your likeness...in my, experiments.” G-Man said. “Now...it seems you are, rather distressed. Would you like to, go somewhere to...ease your nerves? We can go anywhere.”

“I wanna go home.” Tommy muttered.

“Think of home, then, Tommy.”

Tommy closed his eyes. He thought of his neighborhood, with the houses of his friends. He thought of his own house, just starting to feel like a place he’d really settled into. He thought of Sunkist, how she’d been taking up most of the bed when Tommy tried to go to sleep that night. He thought of Darnold.

Darnold, the greatest roommate he could have possibly ended up with. He was so grateful to be living with him. He was such a sweet man, so passionate about his interests, driven, funny, and understanding. Tommy could have ended up anywhere, in any number of shitty apartments after the trauma of the resonance cascade, and still be happy, as long as he had Darnold there.

Tommy felt the air around him change. There was a breeze, now, and a fresh, outdoorsy smell. Tommy heard the sounds of trees rustling and birds singing. He opened his eyes, looking around; finding himself stood directly in the center of a mountain road. There was a car parked off to the side of it, in front of some railing surrounding a scenic rest stop. He heard a voice speaking—a voice he knew well. Tommy circled around the car, wincing at the feeling of gravel beneath his feet until he could see him.

Darnold was there in his pajamas, sat on the hood of his car as he stared out at the mountain range in front of him, talking on the phone with someone. Tommy let out a small breath, hopping up onto the hood of the car in the space beside Darnold.

“Like...y’know. Tommy’s the son of an alien and has powers. Dr. Coomer has all those helpful cybernetic enhancements. Bubby’s a super powerful tube-grown guy. Benry’s...uhhh...I actually have no idea what Benry is.” Darnold said to the person on the other end, leaning over a little bit and supporting himself with his free hand. “But you know, that sort of thing. That’s all, like, kickass backstory stuff that had significance in the game. It added to the experience of the story, right? So like, I wasn’t really anybody special, just because I wasn’t... _needed_ , beyond giving you a new arm.”

Tommy frowned, looking out at the mountains in front of them. Then he looked back down in the silence that followed as Gordon spoke on the other end, at Darnold’s hand resting on the metal of the car. Tommy placed his hand gently over Darnold’s with a quiet sigh. As predicted, Darnold didn’t react; Tommy squeezed his hand a little bit, as best as he could manage. His hand was warm, the skin over his knuckles sort of rough and irritated, but a comforting feeling under Tommy’s palm.

“Are, you, sufficiently calmed?” G-Man asked, practically materializing to Tommy’s side. He stood next to the car, staring out at the mountains.

Tommy furrowed his brow. “What do you want?”

“I am, quite, fascinated with the...subject of reality.” G-Man said. “Most specifically, what is _wrong_ about this reality—that, we, reside in. None of this is...how it was meant to happen, you know.”

Tommy didn’t respond.

“It was...something about, Gordon Freeman. The player.” G-Man went on, ambling towards the railing leaning his palms into it. “There are...powers, beyond the others’ understanding. I have learned, to, _shape_ it, to my will. And passed that knowledge on to you, my son.”

“...I hate it.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t—I just wanna...live a normal life.” Tommy said uncomfortably, curling up on the hood of the car and hugging his knees to his chest. “I wanted...I wanted people who consider me a part of their family. And now I have that. Sunkist, Darnold, Gordon and Josh, Dr. Coomer, Bubby...and...Benry—they’re my family. Why should I change anything?”

“It is not as though, this, power, hasn’t already been...utilized.” G-Man said, turning to face Tommy. “Dr. Breen, and the United States government, are not known, for their...generosity. Do you, truly, believe they would simply, hand you all the money you needed to live...comfortably, for the rest of your lives?”

Tommy frowned deeply, staring at G-Man intensely.

“That was...the most direct, role, I was allowed to take on, to date.” G-Man continued. “Truly, it was Gordon’s—the player’s—will. He was the one, who wanted a simple, comfortable life for...himself, and the rest of you. I simply provided...let’s say...an explanation.”

“So...Gordon’s the one in control of this reality?”

“In some sense, yes.” G-Man replied with a nod. “In another sense...no. It is...a strange, arrangement, that I still do not quite have a full understanding of, just yet. However, that power is not...all-encompassing. This world, is only shaped for _your_ experience.”

“...M-...mine?”

“You, and your friends.” G-Man said, approaching the car to stand in front of Tommy. “I can only, impact, anything to do with your life _directly._ By speaking to you—and interacting with you. There is, a stronger force, that puppets the world around you for, your, _development._ Anything else—anything, outside, of your typical experience, is free to be shaped to _my_ will. Such as...the creation of Black Mesa employees.”

“Wh—huh?”

“I would...like, for you to attempt to shape something.” G-Man said carefully. “Change anything...you’d like, within your friends’ experiences.”

“...Like _what?_ ”

“That is, up to you.” G-Man replied, looking pointedly at Darnold.

Tommy looked up at him, too, only now noticing that time was stopped for the moment—Darnold sat completely still, staring up at the sky.

“Is there...anything you would, like to do, for him?” G-Man suggested. “A child of his own, perhaps?”

Tommy grimaced deeply. “What? No! That’s not my—how do you—how do you _know_ that?”

G-Man didn’t respond.

“I hate this.” Tommy said firmly. “I don’t wanna change anything. I just wanna go home.”

Tommy’s eyes widened when everything disappeared around him, replaced by the void with streaks of white in the distance. He wasn’t sitting on anything, anymore, but remained suspended in the air; he carefully moved his legs down, giving him the illusion of standing. G-Man was stood in front of him, just like he had been just a few moments before.

“If you will, not, assist me, Tommy, I will need, to...take matters into...my own hands.” G-Man said. He turned, taking a step to the right; a vague, indistinct ghost of himself split off, disappearing as G-Man continued walking in a small circle around Tommy. “I hope you, understand, this is not out of...malice, towards you. I care for you, as my, son. But, if you are so insistent upon your, independence, well...I’m afraid I am going to have, to, move along, with or without your permission.”

G-Man disappeared as he spoke, his voice still ringing out around Tommy. Tommy whirled around, trying to find the source of his voice. “What—what does that mean?”

“Utilizing your, connection, to the group...I believe I can...speed things along.” G-Man continued, appearing again by Tommy’s side. “There is a point, at the end of the world, where control may be, taken, again. I would like to set things...back on track.”

Tommy frowned, heart beginning to race in his chest. His throat and mouth grew numb, leaving him voiceless against his father. Instead, with a deep breath, Tommy stared intensely at G-Man, focusing all of his energy. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to do—stop time, maybe? _Anything_ —but G-Man only chuckled.

“Perhaps, under my guidance, you would...be able, to, stand a chance, against me.” He said with an amused smile. “But...you most certainly, have, chosen your...humanity, over the power, you could potentially wield. I admire your efforts, though...Tommy.”

Tommy gritted his teeth in frustration, closing his eyes and imagining something he’d hoped he would never have to hold again. In his hand, Tommy imagined the weight of a gun, the grip cool and firm against his palm. He imagined it until he could feel it, then he opened his eyes, finding G-Man and pointing the gun.

“Tommy, your...efforts to, dispose of me, come to quite a shock.” G-Man said with what looked like an overly theatrical frown.

Tommy placed his finger on the trigger.

“I promise you...your friends, will not be killed.” G-Man continued, standing confidently in front of Tommy’s gun. He even stepped a little closer, practically daring Tommy to press the barrel against his chest. “My work, does not need to harm you, or your friends. We could work together, and be...absolutely certain, of the wellbeing of your friends, if you wish.”

Tommy closed his eyes, willing himself to pull the trigger. His hands shook, the rattling of the gun and his erratic breath echoing alone out into the void. He’d killed people before—sort of. They were video game constructs. But then, _he_ had been a video game construct, too; and now, here he was. Those soldiers could have been alive now, right?

Well, Tommy wasn’t sure he cared so much about _that_ , but the point still stood—he had killed before. He could do it again, now that this weird man was threatening his friends and the reality they lived in.

Eventually, something in Tommy broke. He let out an exhausted breath, loosening his grip on the gun, and—

Tommy let out a surprised yelp as a gunshot echoed through the void, leaving his ears ringing. He dropped the gun, taking a step back and pressing his palms to his ears. G-Man stood there, completely unfazed as blood began to seep through what little of the white collared shirt Tommy could see past his suit. He brushed his chest off a little, smearing blood down his shirt.

“Ah. I see.” G-Man sighed. “I’m, very sorry, you felt the need to do that, Tommy. Unfortunately...I _do_ need to get, things, moving along, now. It’s time to go.”

A sharp, flat circle of white formed behind G-Man. Before Tommy could even process what was happening, it grew, surrounding his entire vision, blinding him in a horrible, overwhelming white light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, tommy, i have been...using my, powers, over reality, to create--people...this is my OC, timmy bahama


	23. REPORT: Regarding T.Coolatta's experiences with the "Science Team" and co.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pains i go through in this fic to maintain an early 2000's vibe but sometimes in canon they mention things from the 2010's or this year....at some point u kind of just have to say "fuck it" but i do my best

“You want a hot dog? It’s free.”

Tommy opened his eyes.

Stood over him was Darnold, holding out a very pale looking hot dog in a very sad looking bun, inexplicably inside of a paper cup. Tommy furrowed his brow, slowly accepting it and looking around.

Tommy was sat on the ground outside, leaned against a brick wall. To his side was a garage, filled with cars being worked on and other people walking around inside. Tommy pushed himself up to his feet, putting a hand to his throbbing head.

“Wait—but...huh?” Tommy managed to say, looking around frantically. “What...where...are we?”

Darnold looked at him with concerned eyes. “We’re at the repair shop. Are you feeling alright?”

Tommy blinked against the sun, shading his eyes with his free hand. “I’m...confused.”

Darnold put a comforting hand to Tommy’s back, leading him towards the garage. “C’mon, let’s get you out of the sun.”

Tommy followed Darnold inside, feeling unsteady on his feet as he guided him to a bench to sit on. Tommy sat down heavily, massaging one of his temples with his free hand.

“You okay?” Darnold asked, sitting down beside him.

“I just—I have a headache.” Tommy muttered.

“Maybe you should try and eat, have some water.” Darnold suggested, nodding to the hot dog. “Or I could see if I could get the mechanics to let me grab the cooler out of the van, if you don’t want that.”

Tommy felt nauseous looking at the hot dog in his other hand. “Ummm...Darnold?”

“Yeah?”

“What...happened?”

Darnold tilted his head curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Where’s everyone else?” Tommy asked, searching the garage for their friends. “How did...we get here?”

Darnold furrowed his brow. “The van broke down, remember? Everyone else went off to wander the city while we wait for them to fix it.”

Tommy felt dizzy, leaning against Darnold’s shoulder—partially involuntarily, partially for the comfort. Darnold wrapped his arm around his shoulders to steady him.

“Are you okay? Should I get you anything?” Darnold asked gently.

“Something’s...wrong.” Tommy murmured. “I don’t...remember anything. I just—I remember going to bed before starting—uhh, starting the trip. I don’t remember how we got here, though.”

Darnold squeezed his shoulder. “...Oof. That sounds pretty bad.”

Tommy sighed a little bit and closed his eyes, comforted by Darnold’s arm around him.

“Well—we’ve been out in the sun a bunch, on the road for a long time, waiting for a super long time...maybe once we get back on the road and you can get some rest, things’ll clear up.” Darnold suggested hopefully. “Until then, if you need a nap while we wait, you can just...y’know. Use me like a pillow. If you need.”

Darnold seemed shy about that offer—averting his eyes and tensing a little bit as he spoke. Tommy nuzzled more comfortably against him. He still had a bad feeling about the memory loss, but at the very least, he felt safe with Darnold.

****

There was an absolutely _horrible_ noise.

Tommy opened his eyes, sitting up to press his palms to his ears. He was in the van Dr. Coomer and Bubby had purchased for this trip and trips to come, sat against Darnold like he’d been in the repair shop. Tommy, Darnold, and Benry were sitting in the very back seats as Joshua and Gordon sat in the seats to the side of the van, facing inward towards a little kitchenette. Everyone in the van was covering their ears except Dr. Coomer, whose hands had to be on the wheel to drive, and Benry, who was nodding along to the horrible noise.

It could be broadly described as “music”, if Tommy was feeling generous. There were definitely instruments. The drums were overwhelming, drilling into Tommy’s ears along with erratic honks from a bicycle horn the vague hints of a guitar, and a lead singer laughing and screaming into the microphone.

“Turn it off!” Tommy demanded over the music.

Dr. Coomer complied eagerly, plunging them into blissful silence. Tommy let out a relieved sigh, laying limp against Darnold.

“Ohhh, thank fucking god.” Gordon said.

“Aww, man, don’t skip my music.” Benry complained.

“Benry, I have a _horrible_ headache.” Tommy groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I _can’t_ be—I can’t hear that right now.”

“Yeah, c’mon, let’s just put in my best of Linkin Park album already.” Gordon said, pointedly holding up a CD case.

“Gordon, no offense, but I can’t fucking—I can’t handle that right now, either.” Tommy said harshly, rubbing his temples. It was much ruder than he usually cared to be, but he was in no mood to be nice at the moment—there was an intense feeling of dread rising up in his stomach, his head throbbing with pain.

“You good, Tommy?” Gordon asked as Darnold held Tommy a little closer.

“Yeah, maybe you should go back to sleep.” Darnold suggested gently.

“Something’s _wrong._ ” Tommy said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know _what,_ but...I just...I can’t—I can’t remember anything, I can’t shake this...horrible feeling.”

“Oh, dear, Tommy. That sounds quite serious.” Dr. Coomer called from the front of the van. “Perhaps we should stop at a hotel for the evening.”

Tommy opened his eyes a little bit, looking to Sunkist, who was curled up beside the kitchenette counter. Tommy patted his thigh a couple times, easily getting her attention. She stood carefully, ambling towards Tommy and climbing up onto the seat, draping herself across all of their laps. Tommy buried his face into her fur, hugging her as best as he could manage from the angle he was at. Beside him, Tommy could hear Benry singing. He glanced up, watching colorful orbs float up towards the roof of the van.

“...I’m okay.” Tommy muttered back. “I just...I think I need some real sleep.”

“At this rate, we’d probably make it to the rental at midnight, maybe later.” Bubby announced, staring down at his map. “We _are_ getting close. We could just get it over with, but if Tommy’s dying, it might be best to pull over.”

“Yeah, I vote we pull over.” Gordon agreed. “I’m sure Josh could use a break. Huh, bud?”

“I’m hungry.” Joshua complained.

“Hi, hungry, I’m Benry.” Benry chimed in.

Joshua groaned loudly as Gordon burst out laughing.

A half hour later, the group was pulled over at a motel, climbing out of the van one by one. Tommy massaged his temples, glancing up as Darnold hopped out and stretched with a loud grunt. Tommy let himself lean against Darnold as he felt unsteady again, Darnold wrapping his arm around him to help him stand upright.

“C’mon, let’s go inside.” Darnold said, leading Tommy into the motel office.

Tommy, intent on not being alone, ended up sharing a modest two-bed room with Darnold. The group still hadn’t had dinner, apparently; so they all sat together in Tommy and Darnold’s room, eating pizza they’d ordered and watching a movie Dr. Coomer had rented from the office—the first Shrek movie. Tommy barely managed to get any food down, stomach churning with anxiety has he tried. Eventually, he set his plate aside, leaning his head back against the back board of the bed.

“You need anything, Tommy?” Gordon asked, placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder as he sat in a chair beside Tommy’s side of the bed. “I can run and get you something if you need me to.”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t...I don’t, uhh, want us separating.” Tommy replied.

Gordon looked at him curiously. “Huh? Why’s that?”

“I just...I have a bad feeling.” Tommy said, reaching up to grasp Gordon’s wrist. “Stay close.”

Gordon nodded slowly. “...Okay. I will.”

Eventually, the movie ended, and it grew late. Everyone began heading back to their own rooms—Dr. Coomer and Bubby were staying in their van, since the seats converted into beds—and Tommy had to do his best not to panic now that he wouldn’t be able to see them, anymore. Dr. Coomer paused in the doorway after everyone else had left, though, urging Bubby to go on ahead without him as Darnold closed himself in the bathroom.

“Tommy, umm...not to be presumptuous, but...” Dr. Coomer said, stepping back into the room and closing the door behind him. He sat down on the edge of Tommy’s bed, fiddling with his fingers. “You said you’ve forgotten things. Do you remember our conversation a little while ago? I...don’t particularly remember the day, unfortunately.”

Tommy nodded slowly. “The day Gordon took Joshua back?”

“...I’m sure that’s it.” Dr. Coomer said tentatively. “Umm—if you’re forgetting things, perhaps...we’re struggling with the same thing?”

Tommy thought about it for a moment. He remembered that Dr. Coomer had confided in him he was struggling with blank spots in his memory; times when he’d just “wake up” in the middle of something, having only vague or possibly no memories at all of completely random amounts of time.

“I think—I think this is different.” Tommy replied slowly. “I guess—technically, yeah, I’ve forgotten things. I just...ever since last night, I guess? I don’t remember getting—I don’t remember starting the trip. I just remember being at the repair shop, and then...here. But...I get this... _feeling._ ”

“What sort of feeling?”

Tommy paused, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. “I feel like...something is... _wrong_. Like—I don’t know how to describe it. It just...everything. This whole reality, there’s something _wrong_ with it. And I’m worried that you guys are gonna get hurt.”

Dr. Coomer took one of Tommy’s hands in his own. “I’m very sorry, Tommy. That sounds horrible. We’re all here, though. We survived the resonance cascade and the end of the world as we knew it! We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

“Don’t—don’t say that.” Tommy blurted out. “If you promise you’re, uhh—promise you’re going to be okay, then—...then that just means something horrible is gonna happen to you.”

Dr. Coomer looked at Tommy in surprise. “How’s that, Tommy?”

Tommy hummed worriedly, squeezing Dr. Coomer’s hand. “You know how, like—in movies, when...when a character says it’s gonna be okay, or they—uhh, they make a promise or something, and you know they’re gonna die? Don’t...don’t make promises like that.”

Tommy felt stupid as he said it. It sounded ridiculous, and he knew that; but something about it felt very real. It was probably another delusion, he rationalized. But with how all-encompassing his feeling of dread felt, there was no way he was going to risk it.

“Alright, Tommy. I won’t, then.” Dr. Coomer said cautiously, squeezing Tommy’s hand back.

“...Did you ever go to the doctor about your thing, Dr. Coomer?” Tommy asked, furrowing his brow.

“Oh...yes, I did.” Dr. Coomer replied with a small sigh. “They didn’t find anything wrong. They suggested I try therapy next, which...I will, eventually.”

“I’m glad it’s not anything, like, really serious, at least.” Tommy said, relaxing a little.

“I am, too.” Dr. Coomer smiled warmly at him. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

Tommy closed his eyes tightly. “...I don’t know. I...probably just need some sleep.”

Dr. Coomer nodded. “Alright. I’ll let you rest, then.” He leaned in to hug Tommy close. “I’ll be right outside in the van, if you need me.”

“Okay.” Tommy murmured, hugging Dr. Coomer back.

Dr. Coomer left the room, closing the door gently behind him. Tommy settled into his bed anxiously. He shivered as he listened to Darnold in the bathroom getting ready to sleep, fixating on the sounds of his roommate rather than the fear gripping him that _something_ was about to go horribly wrong.

“I brought some sleep pills, if you want any.” Darnold suggested as he left the bathroom, shutting off the light behind him.

Tommy found himself unable to speak for the time being. Instead, he reached out, hoping Darnold would understand what he wanted. Darnold opened his bag, though, producing the little bottle of sleep medication, as he’d promised. Tommy accepted it, reluctantly taking a couple before setting it aside, watching Darnold settle into his own bed. Tommy curled up in disappointment, closing his eyes and letting out a small sigh.

“G’night, Tommy.” Darnold said.

Tommy nodded.

****

Tommy heard crashing waves and seagulls screeching above. He opened his eyes, smelling the salt from the ocean and someone cooking hot dogs nearby. He was sat on a beach towel dotted with grains of sand, legs curled into his chest. His swimming trunks and binder were soaked, he noted, feet covered in wet, muddy sand. He looked around himself carefully. Sunkist was right by his side, sprawled out on the warm sand and snoring. Tommy rubbed her belly as he searched for his friends. Gordon and Joshua were out in the distance, where the sand was wetter and more compact, making a little sand castle together. Tommy was uneasy as ever, but smiled a little bit at the sight. Next, he found Darnold—he was the one cooking hot dogs on a little grill close by, looking sort of frustrated with his results. Benry was right by his side, still wearing sweatpants, a hoodie, and his hunter’s hat, hovering a little too close to the hot surface. Finally, Darnold just nodded at one that was particularly charred, and Benry picked it up with his bare hand and stuffed it in his mouth. Finally, looking out to the water, Tommy found Bubby and Dr. Coomer out about knee-deep, facing each other with their hands clasped together.

Tommy stood unsteadily, dizzy as he walked the few steps over to where Darnold was cooking and kneeling down beside him. “It’s—...it’s happening again.” He announced.

Darnold stopped, looking up at Tommy with worry. “Oh, shit. Uhh—can I do anything for you?”

Tommy shrugged, crossing his arms uncomfortably. “...What was I doing, right before this?”

“You were out in the water with Dr. Coomer and Bubby for a bit, then you came up here to wait for lunch.” Darnold replied, turning back to the hot dogs to make sure they didn’t burn. “...I know you said before you don’t wanna go to a doctor or anything, but...Tommy, this seems serious. I think we should take you to a clinic.”

“I said that?” Tommy asked.

Darnold nodded. “You did. I mean...I don’t know, what if it’s like, some kind of a seizure or something? It seems like something you should get checked out sooner rather than later.”

Tommy paused, biting his lip. “...I don’t know. I don’t know that—I don’t think...this is something _medical._ Plus...I’m an alien, so I don’t think they could help me.”

“Yeah, man, dunno about you guys, but shit’s been pretty weird, anyway.” Benry chimed in, reaching for another hot dog from the grill. Darnold nudged his hand away with his tongs.

Tommy furrowed his brow. “How so?”

Benry shrugged. “I dunno. I think Gordon’s having some issues or something.”

“Gordon?” Darnold repeated, looking pointedly at Gordon out in the distance. “He seems fine to me. Better than he was before, at least.”

“No, no, like—the other guy.” Benry said, waving his hand dismissively.

“...Huh?”

“Yeah, things’ve been sorta fucked up.” Benry went on, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a shrug. “I’m sure it’ll get sorted out, though.”

“So...how can _you_ tell?” Tommy asked him.

“Huh?”

“That things have been—uhh, you know, not right.”

Benry shrugged again. “Same as you, I think. Just sorta waking up places. But I guess that’s not super different from how I already live, so like, I’m not too worried about it.”

Tommy deflated a little, running his hand through his hair. “I...I don’t think I understand.”

Benry stood, shuffling around the grill to plop down beside Tommy. “It’s fine, man. That guy’s like, _way_ dedicated for some reason. He’ll figure it out.”

“You mean...Gordon?”

“Yeah, Gordon. The other one. The...the guy.” Benry nodded, faltering a little bit as he seemed to struggle to find the words. “...Y’know. Right? The other Gordon?”

“Do you mean...the player?” Tommy asked slowly.

“Yeah. That guy. Player, Gordon, whatever—it’s all the same.”

“...How do you know that?”

Benry shrugged.

Something familiar began to creep up at the back of Tommy’s mind. Something about...a conversation he’d had with someone, he thought. Someone he knew, but it wasn’t anyone who was here with him...someone stood in a—

Something hard hit Tommy in the back of the head. It wasn’t too painful, all things considered, but it shocked him out of his train of thought as he turned around to find the source. There was a Frisbee behind him, now, a kid approaching to pick it up.

“Sorry!” The kid said before running off.

The kid looked sort of familiar.

“You alright?” Darnold asked with a laugh.

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. I-I’m fine.”

Tommy tried his best to get his thoughts in order, recall what he’d almost just remembered, but it was gone—he felt just as lost as ever.

>Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh? Well, watch THIS._

Eventually, the others returned to where they’d set up their towels, and Darnold passed out the hot dogs he had cooked for them. Tommy was starting to feel a little more relaxed, now, as he sat there with his friends. If this was in the hands of Gordon—or, rather, someone who was sort of Gordon?—surely, Benry was right to believe that whoever he was, he was doing his best to keep everything under control. Besides, what could Tommy even do about this? It was better to relax. Take a deep breath. Ground himself; feel the sand beneath him, hear Gordon laugh so hard, he nearly choked on his food, see all of his closest friends gathered together in one place.

His friends...and Benry.

Tommy got stuck on that. How couldn’t he? He _wanted_ Benry to be his friend, but Tommy was starting to understand how Gordon felt before. He was still upset with him, and Benry hadn’t even _apologized_ , but they were just...acting like it was fine.

Tommy felt a lot more steady as he thought about that, for some reason. Benry seemed to notice it, too, somehow—he stared directly at Tommy, a knowing look in his eyes. Tommy looked away uncomfortably. He wasn’t so sure now was a good time to talk about it. As Tommy let go of the thought, he closed his eyes again with a sigh.

****

Tommy opened his eyes.

He was sat on an unfamiliar couch. His friends were all asleep; both Darnold and Gordon were leaned against each of Tommy’s shoulders, lightly snoring, with Joshua curled up between Tommy and Gordon. Dr. Coomer and Bubby were on another couch; Dr. Coomer was draped across it, head resting on a pillow propped up on the arm of the couch, with Bubby laying on top of him. Sunkist was on the floor, draped over Tommy’s feet.

Benry, however, was sat cross-legged on the coffee table in front of Tommy, staring directly back at him.

“Nowhere to run now, bro.” Benry said.

Tommy gently shushed him as Gordon stirred. Once he settled back down, Tommy focused his energy until he could feel the beginning of a timestop. The gentle snoozing of his friends stopped; leaving Tommy alone with Benry.

“What?” Tommy asked incredulously.

Benry nodded at his friends. “You can’t move without waking ‘em up. You figured it out before, didn’t you?”

“...Figured _what_ out?”

Benry indicated vaguely to the air around them. “Y’know. All this weird shit that’s been goin’ on. Things felt solid again for a second. Y’know? Then we ended up here.”

Tommy let out a small, frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what happened. I just—I sort of...I thought of...well...”

Benry stared at Tommy patiently, waiting for him to figure out what he should say.

“I don’t understand.” Tommy finally said, looking down. “I worked...I worked _so_ hard for you. And—and I don’t mean that like, you owe me anything, it’s just—I don’t...I realized I never actually _really_ knew you in the first place? It’s just...it was sort of weird to think about, and I could deal with that, because—because you don’t _have_ to be who I expected you to be, that’s fine. But then you tried to kill us, and then you haven’t made any sort of effort to...apologize?”

“I apologized, bro.” Benry said simply. “I said sorry to Gordon and Dr. Coomer and Bubby.”

“Wh—why not _me?_ ”

“You kicked me outta your house.”

“Well—that wasn’t because...” Tommy gritted his teeth, trying to keep a grip on his thoughts. “Gordon didn’t want you around Joshua at the time. I was just...doing what Gordon wanted. Also...you were kind of—you were being a dick.”

Benry didn’t respond to that.

“You kept dismissing it whenever—whenever I uhhh, tried to talk to you about any of this.” Tommy went on. “Why were you...why did you try to kill us?”

Benry paused for a minute, fiddling with one of the flaps of his hat. “Y’know the Nihilanth?”

Tommy didn’t reply—he might have made a noncommittal hand gesture, but his arms were trapped down by his sides by Darnold and Gordon.

“ _That_ thing was supposed to be the final boss.” Benry went on. “But it wasn’t there, so...y’know. Can’t have a game without a final boss.”

Tommy wasn’t sure he could process this information at the moment. He got the distinct feeling it should be changing everything about how he viewed the Nihilanth project—but as it was now, he was too overwhelmed to think too hard about it.

“But...y’know. Sorry.” Benry said finally, rubbing the back of his neck. “It must’ve sucked a lot. Didn’t really think like...how shitty it would’ve been, y’know? Way I figured, it was just a game, so...”

Tommy sighed a little. “It _did_ suck. I trusted you.”

Benry bit his lip, scooping up the remote next to him to stim with the buttons. After a moment of silence, Benry repeated a tiny “sorry”.

“...We’re...out of the game now, though.” Tommy eventually said. “So...I mean...at least it won’t happen again. Right?”

Benry nodded.

Tommy let out a small, defeated breath. He didn’t feel any better about it. Maybe he never would? He thought. But the fact remained true; Benry didn’t seem to have that sort of motivation, anymore.

“So...what was I like before?” Benry asked.

Tommy stared at Benry in surprise. “Ummm...kinda the same. Kinda different.” He replied slowly. “I don’t know what your full name was—if it was Benry all along or something else, but we all called you Ben. You liked video games, and you talked to me a lot while we worked. You actually—you especially loved Super Mario 64.”

Benry nodded. “Yeah, that shit slaps.”

Tommy laughed a little. “Yeah. Then, uhhh...you disappeared into the Nihilanth. And I only saw you again when I ran in to prove—uhh, prove something to Bubby. Then I saved you, but pulling you out...put you into a coma. I don’t think you were ever _supposed_ to leave? But all that time, I thought—I thought I was talking to the Nihilanth. But I guess I was actually talking to you with the sweet voice.”

“...I dunno about all that.” Benry said awkwardly. “I mean...I don’t remember it. So...I don’t know if that was really...me? It feels kinda weird to have me being, like, lumped in with whoever that guy was.”

Tommy paused before nodding. “...That makes sense. Sorry.”

Benry shrugged. “It’s all good. Sorry all that is like, I dunno...sorta fucked up by me being, like, y’know. Like this.”

Tommy shook his head. “No, Benry, that’s—that’s fine. I didn’t mean to make you...make you feel like that mattered more. It was just...I spent a long time trying—uhhh, trying to figure that out, and save y—I mean, Ben—from...whatever the Nihilanth was. I guess I just expected everything to make sense, as soon as...you got out.”

“Ehhh. Yeah. I dunno, I’m sure it’ll make more sense later.” Benry muttered dismissively.

“...Why?”

“Just a hunch.”

Tommy stared down into his lap as they settled into another silence.

“...Are we good?” Benry asked suddenly.

Tommy looked up at Benry.

“Uhhh...” Tommy paused to think about it. “I don’t...I’m not really over it all. It’s—it’s like, it would’ve been one thing to try and kill us, with—uhhh, with how the game was and everything. But it’s another how...it took so long for you to acknowledge that it hurt.”

Benry frowned, averting his eyes. “...Yeah. Sorry.”

“I don’t...I...” Tommy bit his lip, frustrated with the way he was starting to have trouble forming the words in his head. “I wanna trust you. I wanna trust that—that you actually...care about us?”

Benry looked up at Tommy, furrowing his brow. “‘Course, dude. We’re buds. We’re besties, right?”

“I know that you want to be.” Tommy said slowly. “And— _I_ wanna be friends. But you have to...actually...make an effort. You know? I’m not—we shouldn’t have to sit around and...and like, coddle you until you apologize or own up to your mistakes that we have to—like, we have to lay out for you. That sucks.”

Benry pulled on the flaps of his hat, squishing his hat over his head. He sang out a few orbs of sweet voice in affirmation. A promise to do better.

“...Thanks, Benry.” Tommy said, leaning back into the couch a little.

“I, uhhh...” Benry picked at the remote in his hands. “Is there...a way I can, uhhh, make it up to you?”

Tommy slowly shrugged as best as he could, with Gordon and Darnold still leaned against him. “...I don’t know.”

Benry nodded. “...‘Kay. I’ll...think of something.”

****

Tommy opened his eyes again. He was getting really sick of waking up in totally different places—but at least this time, he was in the comfort of his own home.

Tommy was stood in the kitchen, holding a jug of milk in his hand. He wasn’t sure what he’d intended to do with it; he put it back into the fridge, looking at the time. It was noon; Darnold would surely be waking up around now, right? Tommy headed up the stairs, knocking uneasily on his door a couple times before simply opening it.

Darnold wasn’t there.

Tommy looked down at his phone. There were no new messages announcing where he’d gone. Tommy stuffed his phone back into his pocket, scooped up his keys and headed next door to Gordon’s house with Sunkist in tow, gasping in surprise at a stiff, freezing breeze that hit him. As he stepped down off his porch, the ground _crunched_ beneath his foot—there was _snow_. Just a minute ago, it had been the tail end of summer. Tommy glanced between his friends’ houses, noting Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s camper van was gone; Gordon’s car was still in his driveway, though. He made his way carefully to Gordon’s house, unlocked the door and headed straight upstairs, where he could hear Gordon shouting something. His voice came from the guest bedroom rather than his own bedroom. Tommy pushed it open, finding a completely unfamiliar layout. There used to be a bed; now, instead, it sort of looked like part of a studio, the hints of a desk hidden behind an intricately strung curtain with light peeking up from inside.

“Oh, shit—oh, goddammit.” Gordon huffed. “Sorry, guys, I got distracted. I think I’m getting robbed? Hold on.”

Gordon parted the bright green curtain from inside, smiling at Tommy when their eyes met.

“Oh, hey! I’m in the middle of a stream. Wanna say hi?” Gordon asked.

Tommy quirked his eyebrow, approaching Gordon’s strange setup wordlessly. He poked his head inside, squinting against the bright lights Gordon had trained down at his chair. There was a camera perched on top of his double monitor setup, along with a microphone just to the side on his desk.

“Chat, it’s the one—the _only_ —Tommy!” Gordon introduced. Tommy waved towards the camera, looking at the second monitor. There was indeed a chatroom, with a steady stream of people sending messages.  
  
**piggyofdoom:** TOMMY :PogChamp:  
**tallest_spork:** TOMMY!!!! :PogChamp: :PogChamp: :PogChamp:  
**BlessedBiscuits:** HI TOMMY  
**johnwicklover1994:** yo  
**babiezbabiezbabiez:** :PogChamp:

“Hi, everyone.” Tommy greeted.  
  
**mikuhatsune666:** Where’s Sunkist???  
**babiezbabiezbabiez:** :gordoSmug:  
**axamilli:** where’s sunkist :gordoGun:  
**appleypie:** show sunkist

“Oh, Sunkist?” Tommy looked off to the side, patting his thigh a couple times. “Sunkist, come say hi.”

Sunkist trotted up, nudging her way into Gordon’s streamer setup and putting her paws up on Gordon’s armrest, posing nicely for the camera. The chat really went wild, spamming emojis of that excited looking guy’s face and what seemed to be custom emojis of Sunkist herself as she barked out a few orbs of sweet voice.

“Oh—thank you to babiezbabiezbabiez for the very generous donation of five dollars.” Gordon said, reading something off his second screen. “babiezbabiezbabiez says—oh, they want you to read it, Tommy.”

Tommy leaned in again to read off the screen.

“Who’s...Leeroy Jenkins?” Tommy asked.  
  
**mikuhatsune666:** LOL  
**axamilli:** he doesnt even know leeroy jenkins :LUL:  
**appleypie:** guys stop donating for leeroy jenkins its getting old  
**babiezbabiezbabiez:** :gordoCry:  
**piggyofdoom:** :LUL: :LUL: :LUL:  
**this_is_my_weapon:** just play the game already  
**BlessedBiscuits:** why is b*nry a banned word now????  
**johnwicklover1994:** @BlessedBiscuits that fuckers not allowed in here anymore he knows what he did  
**johnwicklover1994:** dont fucking mention him again or ill fucking ban you  
**BlessedBiscuits:** :gordoFear:  
**piggyofdoom:** :gordoFear:  
**appleypie:** uhhh :gordoFear:

Gordon laughed. “Benry, quit harassing my chat. Here, guys, I’ll actually put him on the call here...” Gordon clicked a few buttons on his computer. “There we go. Benry, entertain chat for me for a bit, okay? We’re gonna go to a quick break. I’ll be back soon—like, five minutes, probably.”

Tommy glanced at the chat one more time.  
  
**BlessedBiscuits:** BBBB  
**piggyofdoom:** BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB  
**appleypie:** BBBBBBBBBBB  
**babiezbabiezbabiez:** lol  
**axamilli:** bbbbbbbbbb  
**tallest_spork:** what the fuck

After clicking a few more buttons, Gordon leaned back in his chair, taking off his headphones. “What’s up, Tommy?”

“Uhhh...” Tommy bit his lip, reaching down to pet Sunkist. “Y’know how...I felt...weird during our trip?”

Gordon nodded, expression turning much more serious. “Yeah. Is it happening again?”

“...Yeah.”

Gordon stood, pulling Tommy into a tight hug. “Jeez, man, I’m sorry. That fucking sucks. What do you need? You need me to fill you in on what’s been going on?”

Tommy sighed, wrapping his arms around Gordon. “Uhhh...yeah, maybe.”

Gordon pulled away from Tommy, indicating for him to follow. Tommy and Sunkist followed Gordon downstairs to the kitchen, where Gordon got Tommy a glass of water and sat down beside him at the table.

“Where’s Joshua?” Tommy asked, glancing around.

“He’s at preschool for a couple more hours.” Gordon answered. “So...how much do you remember?”

“Last I remember...I-I think we were at the rental in California.” Tommy replied.

Gordon sucked in air through his teeth. “Oof. That was...a few months ago, Tommy.”

Tommy’s stomach dropped. “What? A few _months?_ ”

Gordon placed his hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, man, it’s gonna be fine. Not much has even really happened. Well—Bubby and Dr. Coomer are out on another trip right now, I think they’re visiting Dr. Coomer’s hometown. I started streaming on Justin.TV while Josh is at school, like you saw up there. He goes to one of those ones that’s only four hours a couple days a week, Tuesdays and Fridays, so I always do my streams on Fridays. Let’s see, what else...Benry’s starting to get into like, engineering stuff, I think? And he keeps sending me what looks like video game models? I don’t really know exactly what he’s doing. And you and Darnold are on the verge of opening your own shop.”

Tommy stared at Gordon for a second. “...A shop?”

“Yeah! A potions shop.” Gordon answered with a smile. “Like, sort of a bar thing? Except instead of mixing alcoholic drinks, you order potions from a menu to be mixed right there, or you buy pre-bottled stuff? Stuff like that. It sounds fun.”

“...Huh.”

“It’ll be alright, man.” Gordon said reassuringly. “You eventually remembered everything last time. So just give it a bit, and you’ll be fine. Okay?”

Tommy nodded slowly. “...Okay. Thanks, Gordon.”

Tommy jumped in surprise as his phone began to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out, finding Darnold was calling him.

“Hello?” Tommy greeted.

“Tommy! Everything’s sorted out, we’re good to start setting up!” Darnold said enthusiastically. “I know you said you weren’t feeling good, so like, don’t worry about a thing, but—ahh, I’m so excited!”

Tommy couldn’t help but grin, even though he barely had any idea what Darnold was talking about. He hadn’t heard Darnold get this excited about something before; he wished he could be there with him.

“Oh! You mean the shop?” Tommy asked tentatively.

“Yeah! Renovations are done, the sign’s up, everything’s signed over and everything!” Darnold squealed into the phone. “It’s gonna be great! Now we just gotta order ingredients and cleaning supplies and stuff, and then we can get started!”

“That’s great!” Tommy replied. “Umm—actually, I might head over, if...if that’s okay?”

“Of course!”

After quick goodbyes, Tommy hung up, standing up uneasily. “Umm...where _is_ the shop?”

Gordon gave Tommy directions, and Tommy gave Gordon one last hug before heading out. Sunkist climbed eagerly into the back seat, and Tommy drove to the area Gordon had directed him to—he hadn’t been sure exactly which building it was, but Tommy was sure he’d know it when he saw it, if the sign was already up. It was hard to miss, in fact; the sign was in bright neon colors, featuring graphics of beakers and the title “POTION EMPORIUM”. Tommy found a place to park and led Sunkist to the building, knocking on the door a couple times; the lights were dim inside, making it sort of hard to see. Darnold quickly approached, unlocking the door for Tommy and stepping aside to let him in.

“Check it out!” Darnold said eagerly, heading inside to flip the lights on fully. It sort of looked like it could have been an old diner before, with the counter section with barstools and booths lining the walls. It was small, but very colorful; Tommy smiled at it, following Darnold behind the counter. “ _And_ , while I was waiting earlier, I got our menus printed!”

Tommy looked over a laminated menu Darnold had handed to him. It was a single, tall page, heavily decorated with silly names for drinks and a list of ingredients below. It really reminded him of a quirky bar, but as Gordon had promised, everything was non-alcoholic.

“Whoa. This is really cool!” Tommy said with a smile, looking up at Darnold.

Darnold grinned back at him, leaning against the counter. He was dressed nicely, Tommy finally noticed as his face grew a little warm, with a black pencil skirt, a light orange button-up, and a bowtie decorated with Erlenmeyer flasks. Tommy handed the menu back to him, reveling in the way their fingers brushed over each other as he accepted it. Darnold put the menus on a shelf behind the counter carefully before patting it excitedly with his open palms.

“This is gonna be so much fun! I get to make potions again!” Darnold exclaimed. “Not anything, like, with groundbreaking research or anything, but y’know—I think people will like these. At least, I _hope_ they will.”

“I’m sure they will.” Tommy reassured him, putting a hand on Darnold’s shoulder.

Darnold smiled, putting his hand to Tommy’s. Everything was so strange, suddenly, but Darnold was always provided at least somewhat of a grounding presence. When he thought of home, he thought of _him._ He could spend the rest of his life with him like this; living with him, running a little shop with him, always able to look to him when he was feeling existentially horrible. These thoughts grounded him now more than ever—so much so, it almost felt like Darnold was the center of the universe. Tommy wanted to pull him into a hug, and then, maybe...

Tommy closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his head a little before he made any sort of move.

****

Tommy opened his eyes again.

He was no longer in the shop with Darnold; this time, he was sat at his kitchen table, with an inexplicably disassembled Furby in front of him. Benry was right next to him, fiddling with a couple of the pieces wordlessly. Tommy looked to the clock on the stove, finding it was 12AM—hours after he usually went to sleep.

Tommy let out a deep, frustrated sigh. “Oh, goddammit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huh? what? this story has a plot??


	24. REPORT: Regarding the Player

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just for absolute clarity before we begin because i Don't want any unfortunate misunderstandings: no i am NOT writing fanfiction about wayne, this is an alternate version of gordon lol

>Okay. This is getting ridiculous.

>You're skipping over a bunch of shit I actually really wanted to see! The road trip sequence was gonna be really fun! Everyone loves a good road trip sequence. You stick a bunch of people in a car together for a full day, and they have NO choice but to bond--they were gonna have a really good time! You remember Bubby and Dr. Coomer out in the water? That was supposed to be a HUGE moment for them, and I didn't even get to see it. And there was gonna be all this shit for Tommy and Darnold, too, and me--I mean, Gordon--being a good dad and stuff, and some fun shit with Benry probably? It's hard to tell with him. It was gonna be great, though, trust me.

>I guess I WILL give you that it made Tommy and Benry talk, finally. It was getting pretty hard to nudge them in that direction with everything else going on, but c'mon, they just needed a little bit more time. Plus, like, I'm pretty sure that wasn't even your intent. Unforeseen consequences, right? Lol.

>For a dude who's been alive for centuries and calls 37 whole years of his son's life "not that long" you're being really impatient. Like, I guess I will grant you that EVENTUALLY, you'll have to have your way, considering life span and everything, but you're trying to speed things along NOW? You can't let me just help my friends live happy domestic lives after the resonance cascade? That shit was hard on them, I want them to be happy. Don't you want your son to be happy, G-Man? Come on! And like, did you see that? He was finally gonna make a move with Darnold! You RUINED it!

>...But I guess you can't hear me like this, huh?

>Oh well. I'm not gonna let you skip over the next shit here, though. I'm not even sure you COULD skip it, it's too significant...but like, you know, I'm really gonna take my time with this. Get comfortable, man, we're REALLY getting into it. We're gonna enjoy every little scene together. All the interpersonal intricacies, all the internal monologues--we're getting it ALL. You may have a hold on Tommy, but that leaves me with, like, five others? Six, if I count Joshua? Hell, even seven, I've got Sunkist. Don't MAKE me pull in Forzen for this, wherever he is. I could find him if I needed to, and that's a THREAT.

>It actually sucks a lot that you took Tommy from me for your stupid schemes, though. His perspective on what's coming up would've been really sweet. Like, the payoff of Tommy's years-long found family dynamic with Dr. Coomer and Bubby would be so good. It was gonna be REALLY cute when...

>Well, actually, I guess there's not much I can do about that at this point. Sorry, everyone, I've wasted enough of your time. Let's get back into it already._

****

Darnold yawned as he sat back behind the counter, turning the page of his book. Tommy was sat cross-legged at one of the booths, going over their finance books and inventory. They had just opened for the day about an hour ago; business usually was pretty slow around this time. They’d started playing around with their schedule a little bit—they tended to stick to being open for seven hours a day, starting off with an early opening and early closing schedule. However, their business model attracted the students of the local high school; meaning it paid off to open later, close later. It was noon, now, on the final day before they’d close up shop for the next two weeks so they could take a very special occasion.

Darnold had been a little nervous about the trip at first, considering Tommy’s memory issues he had been having. He seemed to be doing better the past couple months, though; he did slowly regain his memories he had lost, and didn’t get those particularly strong feelings of dread like before. After Darnold had bitten the bullet and brought it up, Tommy insisted it would be okay—so Darnold dropped it, resolving to just keep a close eye on him.

Darnold looked up as he heard the door bell chiming. A gigantic box being pushed in on a dolly was all he could see as the door was nudged open clumsily. Darnold stood, setting his book aside and stepping out from behind the counter. They hadn’t ordered anything to be delivered today—much less something this big.

Once the person pushing the dolly had to turn the corner around a booth, Darnold could finally see who it was. Benry was the one pushing it, ignoring Darnold as he carefully deposited the box in the corner beside the fridge of pre-mixed potions. The box was as tall as Benry was—so just above 5 feet.

“What is this?” Darnold asked as Benry simply tossed the dolly to the floor with a loud _clank._

“Reparations, bro.” Benry replied. He began tearing at the box with his nails, getting a surprising amount of traction out of it. Soon, the box was peeled away, revealing some sort of arcade cabinet. It was decorated black and orange, with a really intricate amount of buttons and joysticks. Benry reached around the back, plugging in the cabinet.

“Reparations?” Tommy echoed, pushing the books aside and standing to investigate the cabinet.

“Yeah. You got, uhhh, Kidz Bop barcade now, except without the ‘cade’.” Benry explained vaguely. “So I made this. One of a kind.”

“‘Kidz Bop barcade’?” Darnold repeated. “It’s a potions shop, Benry, it was never supposed to be a bar, much less a ‘barcade’. We’ve never had any games here.”

“Exactly! Now you got one.” Benry slapped the side of the cabinet a couple times. “Here, try it out.”

Benry turned the cabinet on, sticking a trick coin and pulling it back out before stepping aside. Tommy approached it, looking somewhat intimidated by all the buttons before starting the game.

The game was _weird._ Darnold wasn’t entirely sure what the objective was—it seemed to be a Doom-style first person shooter, but nothing that Tommy tried to do produced the results he seemed to be hoping for. There were so many buttons to try and press, almost like an entire keyboard, and four separate joysticks that seemed to be equally important. Tommy tried shooting something that vaguely resembled one of those aliens that Darnold had seen while walking around Black Mesa, and the gun disappeared from the player character’s arms. Instead, it launched an animation sequence of the player character summoning some sort of lightning spell, which crashed through the roof and floor. Rain poured through the hole in the roof, and a flower sprouted from the hole in the floor. The player character picked the flower and handed it to the alien; the alien accepted it, ate it, and walked away. Tommy smiled as he moved on.

Tommy got really invested in playing it for the following hours, until kids began entering the store. Tommy looked startled by their customers, glancing up at the clock and exiting out of the game so he could scoop up their finance and inventory books.

“What’s that?” One of the kids—one of their regulars, actually—asked as they sat down at the counter.

“Uhhh...I guess you’re welcome to try it?” Darnold said glancing at Benry. “We just sorta have it now.”

“It’s pretty fun.” Tommy added as he stepped behind the counter as well to head into their little office.

Darnold began mixing some of the first potion requests, passing them out to the appropriate customers. The first potion was always free—hence the popularity with broke teenagers, which wasn’t quite a problem, considering their wealth—making it easy to just pass out potions and kick back, watching kids start trying to play. They got way involved in it, too; apparently, there _were_ patterns and things to pay attention to in the game, Darnold just couldn’t keep up with what everyone was shouting about. Benry looked pleased with his work, smiling a little at how excited the kids got about it. That was pretty sweet, at least, Darnold had to admit.

His first impressions of Benry weren’t so much how he felt about him recently. He was kind of a dick at first; these days, though, he actually seemed to be putting in a decent amount of effort to do better. He listened more, engaged with everyone more—he wasn’t quite so closed off. It seemed to be benefiting his friendships immensely; not only that, but he actually seemed like he was happier. It was nice to see. Darnold found himself sort of proud of him, though he wasn’t sure they were close enough for it to feel appropriate to tell him as much.

Benry noticed Darnold watching and stood, approaching the counter to sit down and glance over the menu.

“Hey, could I get a, uhhh...” Benry clicked his tongue. “I dunno, man, what’s your favorite?”

“Taste-wise, or mixing-wise?” Darnold asked, leaning against the counter.

Benry shrugged. “I dunno. Your choice.”

Darnold started mixing him a drink he hoped Benry would like as he stared down at the menu, Tommy stepping back out from the office to stand behind the counter with Darnold.

“You ever think about selling food here?” Benry asked.

“Hm? No.” Darnold replied, quirking an eyebrow at him. “I may be pretty good at cooking, but that sounds miserable to do as a job. _Mixology_ is my passion.”

“Well, what about like, little pastries or something? Feels like you could get some good money outta that.”

“I take my potions _very_ seriously, Benry. They aren’t intended to be had with _pastries._ ” Darnold said, giving Benry a stern look. “Now, do you want whipped cream on your potion, or not?”

“Oh, bro, pile on as much as you physically can.”

“Plus, like, we’re not—we’re not really in it to turn a profit or anything.” Tommy pointed out as he leaned back against the counter, Darnold setting to work on the whipped cream. “Most of our customers are teenagers, so...”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna be like, bleeding their wallets dry.” Darnold agreed, setting the potion down in front of Benry. “I just wanted to make potions! As long as we make enough to break even, I’m good.”

“How _do_ you break even?” Benry asked. “Doesn’t really seem possible, with how you’re doing things.”

Darnold and Tommy exchanged a look before shrugging.

“We just...always do.” Tommy said nonchalantly.

Benry shrugged as he took a sip, pulling the cup away to reveal a small whipped cream-mustache. “Damn, bro, this potion’s really good. Nice.”

Darnold smiled. “Thanks, Benry.”

The bell over the door jingled again, announcing the entrance of Dr. Coomer. He approached the counter with a massive smile, holding a little black box in his hands.

“I got it!” He announced excitedly. He popped open the box, proudly displaying a shiny silver ring.

Tommy grinned, leaning against the counter to look at it closely. “That’s great! I’m so—I’m so excited for you guys!”

Dr. Coomer stamped his feet enthusiastically as he closed the box and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I can hardly wait! I think Bubby will love what I have planned.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, speaking of which, I got my certification to officiate the wedding.” Darnold added.

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Dr. Coomer practically shouted. He invited himself behind the counter, approaching Darnold and giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder, then pulled both him and Tommy into a tight hug while Benry sang sweet voice at him. “I’m so lucky to have such supportive friends! Thank you both.”

“No problem—just—let me breathe, please.” Darnold grunted as Tommy hugged him back, apparently completely unbothered by the pressure around him.

Dr. Coomer loosened his grip around them, just enough for Darnold to breathe easily.

“Hey, Darnold! Come on, I wanna order another drink!” One of the kids called over the counter.

Darnold fixed him with an overly dramatic look, pointing up towards a sign posted above one of the machines, reading, “ _Sorry! You were rude to me, so now you get no potion._ ”

“Hey, don’t make me tap the sign.” Darnold said firmly.

A couple of the kid’s friends laughed as he huffed in embarrassment. “Sorry, Darnold.”

Darnold snorted, breaking away from Dr. Coomer’s embrace. “It’s fine. What potion do you want?”

As Darnold got back to work, he listened to Dr. Coomer chatter excitedly to Tommy and Benry about his plan to propose to Bubby. It was sweet—they’d been out of the game for just a few months shy of a year, now, and honestly, Darnold had spent a somewhat embarrassing amount of that time under the assumption they already _were_ married. It seemed like a decision long overdue, to say the least.

Benry sang sweet voice at Dr. Coomer again.

“Uhh—sorry, Benry, what does that mean again?” Dr. Coomer asked.

“Means it’s pretty cool you’re getting married.” Benry replied, resting his head in his hands.

“Awww! Thank you, Benry.” Dr. Coomer said, giving Benry an affectionate pat on the head. Benry closed his eyes appreciatively. “I think Bubby will be quite pleased as well. If I had the chance, I would have married him years ago.”

“I’m sorry it’s taken so long.” Tommy said, looking at Dr. Coomer sadly.

“Oh, it’s alright.” Dr. Coomer waved his hand dismissively. “Marriage isn’t necessarily the end goal of a relationship—I don’t see this as coming too late in our lives. I still cherish every moment I was lucky enough to spend with him, even if...well, there were unfortunate circumstances that kept us from seeing each other romantically. And...circumstances that made some times in our lives quite miserable. Even then, we’re free to spend the rest of our lives together, now! I couldn’t be more grateful for that.”

Dr. Coomer let out a small sigh, looking down as he pulled the ring back out and ran his thumb over the seam of the box. Despite his cheery tone, his smile fell a little bit as he popped the box open, gently tracing the ring with his index finger.

“I’m _really_ happy to see you guys get to be together.” Tommy said, putting a hand on Dr. Coomer’s shoulder. “It’s been so long, even just—even from _my_ perspective. I can’t imagine how it must’ve been for you.”

“Yeah.” Benry said, nodding knowingly.

Dr. Coomer began tearing up, hurriedly wiping the tears away and nodding. “It’s been so wonderful, getting to spend time with him—with _all_ of you!—like this, where we...don’t have anything holding us back, anymore. I love you all so, so much.”

Dr. Coomer pulled Tommy and Darnold into another tight hug, pulling away much faster this time to wipe at his face again with the heel of his hand. “Oh, dear, I’ve gotten all emotional again. I’d actually better hurry home, I don’t want to keep Bubby waiting too long, or he’ll start asking questions.” Dr. Coomer said, stuffing the ring back into his pocket. “I’ll see you all in a few hours!”

“Bye, Dr. Coomer.” Tommy said, both him and Darnold waving goodbye (and Benry singing sweet voice) as Dr. Coomer left.

Darnold and Tommy worked through the rest of their day, ushering out the remaining customers at 7 on the dot so they could get started on giving the shop a good deep clean—with Benry’s sort-of help—before leaving at 8:30. Darnold made sure to put up a sign on the door announcing their vacation before locking up, and they all headed back home together to finish up getting ready for their trip.

>You hear that? A TRIP. That's right. And Benry's still legally dead, so you know what that means, G-Man! If you'd just given me time, I probably could've nudged things around for him to get a proper ID (or maybe even improper, who knows) so they could all ride on a plane--but first off, where's the fun in that? Second off, you seem to really hate road trips, so now I get to rub it in your face.

>Sorry, I know he can't hear me and all, but it feels good to make fun of him in the margins. Sue me. Anyway..._

“You got everything?” Tommy asked as Darnold dragged his suitcase down the stairs.

“I think so.” Darnold replied, going over his list again. His heart raced as the words seemed to blend together on the page. “I mean...at least, I _hope_ so.”

“Did you print your boarding pass already?”

>Wait, what?

>Why are they flying? I KNOW Benry's there for the proposal, that was in the Bubby and Coomer backstory! Unless we DID skip over him getting an ID...?

>Hold on, let me find Benry._

****

Benry yawned loudly, laying flat on his back on the roof of Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s camper van. They wouldn’t be heading out for a few hours, he knew, but he liked hanging out up there. Not usually for too long; he’d end up missing the sounds of other people around him, but sometimes, a little quiet time did him good. He’d found it was easier to think there, forcibly eliminating distractions so he could do some honest reflection, like Tommy had wanted.

He hoped the game cabinet was a good gift. Tommy and Darnold were so invested in their shop, so a gift to contribute to its livelihood seemed like a good move. Plus, he knew video games. It was sort of the best talent he could offer them as some form of apology. That worked out pretty well with Gordon, too—helping him with his Justin.TV stuff seemed like it was doing their friendship some favors. He was currently working on another game he hoped maybe Gordon would enjoy streaming for his small, somewhat dedicated following.

With Dr. Coomer and Bubby, though, Benry wasn’t so sure. Then again, he sort of got the impression that he and Bubby had an understanding already—Bubby rationalized everything in the game differently than the others. So, that left Dr. Coomer, who didn’t really like video games. Benry would have to figure something else out for him. Maybe do something cool at his wedding? He wasn’t sure just yet.

“Bro, quit digging through my head.” Benry said suddenly.

>Huh?

“You’re giving me a headache, man.”

...

“Bro?”

>Can you HEAR me?

“Yeah.”

>What the fuck. You're not supposed to hear me.

“Eh.” Benry made a non-committal gesture with his hand. 

>How long have you been able to hear me??

“Only just now.”

>...Huh. So like, you couldn't hear me before when you were in the shop with Darnold? Or the other times I'd switched to you?

“Nah.”

>What the fuck? Did G-Man do this...?

“Who?”

>G-Man. You called him Gary man that one time. Lol.

“Lol.”

>Oh don't say that out loud. *I* can say it because I *can't* say it out loud.

“Stfu. Also, no, I think it’s ‘cuz I saw you that one time.”

>Jesus Christ. Everything's gone so off the rails...also, wait, how are you getting to Seattle?

“I’m just gonna teleport there, man.”

>What?

“Remember? I can teleport.”

>...Oh, yeah. I mean, don't hold that against me for forgetting, you really don't do it that much. So like, how come everyone else is flying but you're just teleporting?

“I can’t teleport more than one person a go, I’d get tired. Plus, they wanted to try flying.”

>Oh, huh. I guess I can't really argue with that.

“What should I do for Dr. Coomer?” Benry asked.

>Huh? I don't know. I'm not here to give you advice, dude, YOU figure it out.

“Yeah, but you know Dr. Coomer better than he probably even knows himself. What do you think he’d like?”

>Well, it wouldn't really be an honest gesture from you if *I* told you what to do, then, right? That wouldn't come from the heart. I'm sure he'll like what you come up with. He's a sweet guy, it doesn't have to be something PERFECT. It just has to show that you pay attention and care, in your own way. That's worked out pretty well so far with the others.

“Fine, whatever.”

>Yeah, dude, it's YOUR reparations. You gotta figure this shit out on your own.

“Maaaan. That sucks.”

>Fine, I guess I'll give you a hint, if you're so stuck. It doesn't necessarily have to be a GIFT. It can be something that shows you have an understanding of him, y'know? You and him DO have a lot more in common than you think.

“Huh?”

>You know, how you just wake up in places all the time, feel disconnected from the ways people perceive you most of the time, you feel like you're not really, like--I dunno, "hard set" as a character? There's reasons for that. You and him could have some pretty good solidarity.

“I thought that was all ‘cuz of you.”

>That's complicated. One, no skipping is because of me--at least, skipping that YOU can perceive, I have my ways of filling gaps so it's seamless for you guys. Two, there's different things going on. Remember? It felt different in California, didn't it? You and Dr. Coomer have something specific going on.

“Wha...?”

>Anyway, this is super weird, so I'm gonna go.

“Nooo, man, I don’t wanna get up and go inside. Chill with me for a bit, please?”

>No, dude, I have stuff to do! Go hang out with Gordon or whatever.

“You _are_ Gordon, though.”

>Kind of? Let's not get into that. Besides, you have reflection to be doing, right? Don't let me keep you from that. You got some character development to go through still, you've put that off long enough.

“I can put it off a little longer. I’ve got time.”

>No you don't! Treating it that way just shows you have a long way to go, bro. I'm going now, I gotta get back to Darnold and Tommy.

“Hey, wait. What’s been going on? With all the time skips and shit. That’s not gonna keep happening, right?”

>Ideally, no. Don't worry about it, I'm doing my best not to let that happen again.

“Cool. Bye, not-Gordon.”

>Bye, dude. Also, please promise you're not gonna be weird if I gotta switch back to you again, alright? Just ignore me, let me do my thing.

“Sure, whatever, man. You can live rent free in my head all you want. You—”

>Don't make this weird. I KNOW you wanna try and make it weird, but it's not weird. Nothing weird about being able to see into a friend's head.

“Oh, so we’re friends?” Benry grinned. “Best buds, huh? We’re _best_ friends.”

>Well...I mean, you've got Gordon and the others. They're people you can actually interact with. They make better friends for you than I would. I'm just sorta...here.

Benry shrugged. “That’s cool. I can be friends with someone who talks to me in my head.”

>Well, don't just listen to ME, listen to yourself a little more too, alright? Anyway, I've spent enough time here. I'm not sure the viewers will really like all this, nothing is even really happening, so I'm gonna go.

“We got viewers?”

>Ugh. Yeah, sure, let's just completely shatter the fourth wall or whatever. Self aware AI to the max. Might as well, right? Say hi to everyone.

“Yo.”

>Pretty weird how in a way, you guys all ended up more self-aware in the game than you are now, right? I mean, with YOU as the exception, actually. Food for thought, I guess.

“Whuh...?”

>I'm going for real this time. Bye, Benry._

“Alright. Bye.”

****

>God. G-Man really threw me off my game. Everything was going so smoothly before, you didn't even have to know I was here. I really gotta get back into my groove, it sucks like this. Ruins the immersion. :(

>Actually, y'know what? I wonder how Gordon's doing. It's sorta been a while since we've REALLY checked in on him. The road trip bit was gonna be the chance to see how he's handling all that stuff he was going through. Poor dude...I'm sure I can still pull back to a little earlier, so long as it's still part of this arc...

>Okay. Here we go. Forget I was ever here, don't worry about it. This is NEVER gonna have to come up again._

“The hallucinations have gotten...like...I don’t feel like they happen _less_ , but they’re not always about Black Mesa, anymore. Which...y’know. I guess shows improvement in that regard, but also, I’m still hallucinating.” Gordon said with a sigh, combing his fingers through his hair. “Last week, I was trying to watch a movie with Josh, but I was _so_ fucking certain I kept hearing the coffee pot gurgling. Like, I went and double checked three fucking times to make sure Benry didn’t—like—teleport into my house to make coffee and forget.”

“To be fair, he would.” Bubby pointed out.

“Yeah, exactly, that’s why I kept checking, he’s done that before.” Gordon couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess the therapy _has_ helped. It’s just, like—I don’t know, I guess I still have a little bit of a mental block with it. I think of a million things I wanna tell her throughout the week, then I go in, and suddenly nothing I wanted to talk about actually matters, and I just wanna go home.”

“God. Yeah.” Bubby grumbled. “I don’t know about you, but even after all those adjustments he made to how we handle my appointments so it doesn’t make me feel sick, I still either just want to scream at him for the whole hour about Black Mesa, or I don’t want to talk to him at all.”

Gordon nodded. “Yeah. I get that. You have plenty of reasons to be mad about Black Mesa.”

Bubby didn’t reply to that, just glancing at him as he continued typing on his computer.

“...It’s not just the therapy, though.” Gordon admitted, leaning against Bubby’s desk a little. “I really appreciate you guys all helping me out. It’s really nice, knowing even whenever I hit a bad spot again, you’re always there to help out. So...thanks.”

Bubby nodded. “Of course, Gordon.” He murmured, his attention clearly split between their conversation and his work. He pushed his glasses up on his face, typing on his computer for a few moments longer before letting out a deep sigh, unplugging Gordon’s prosthetic arm from it and holding it out to him. “It shouldn’t talk to you anymore. It’ll just beep if the battery’s getting low.”

“Oh, thanks, Bubby.” Gordon replied, accepting the arm and putting it back on. As promised, once he switched it on, it only beeped a couple times rather than going on its usual spiel. Bubby had gotten that done a lot faster than he’d expected—he was supposed to be distracting him while Dr. Coomer picked up the engagement rings. “So...you excited about the trip?”

Bubby nodded. “I’ve seen Sleepless in Seattle. It’ll be...interesting to see it in person for once.”

“Yeah! I can show you all the stuff I remember from when I lived there. I hope.” Gordon replied tentatively. “I mean—I don’t...actually have _specific_ memories from there, but I hope once we get there, things’ll sorta...slide into place. Y’know?”

Bubby shrugged. “If it doesn’t, it’s fine. We can explore together.”

Gordon smiled, heart swelling a little bit at such a sweet sentiment. “Yeah! It’ll be fun either way.”

“And who knows, maybe it’ll jog specific memories for you.” Bubby suggested, raising an eyebrow at Gordon.

“...Yeah, maybe.” Gordon replied, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t know, I guess...stressing about my past hasn’t been so much on my mind lately. I’ve already got enough going on right now, and plenty of shitty game memories. I guess I’d be a little nervous to find out what sorta things went on way back then. Y’know?”

Bubby let out a bitter laugh, spinning in his computer chair and standing to start heading down the stairs. “Yeah. If I could forget Black Mesa before the game, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Gordon followed close behind him, watching as he pulled out a frying pan and a carton of eggs. Gordon slowly sank down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“Well—but that’s where you met Dr. Coomer.” Gordon pointed out.

Bubby huffed at that. “Do you want eggs?”

“No thanks, dude, I’ve seen how you cook them.”

Bubby shrugged and started cooking for himself. “...It’s true I met Harold at Black Mesa. I also wouldn’t be _alive_ if it weren’t for them, so you know. You win some, you lose some.”

Gordon leaned against the table, head rested in his palm. “I mean, those memories make you who you are now, though.”

“Yeah, they make me a bitter old man.” Bubby said, turning and leaning against the counter to look at Gordon. “I get what you’re trying to say, Gordon, but you’re sounding like my therapist. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to wish I could forget it all.”

“Well, if I sound like your therapist, I must be onto something, right?” Gordon asked. “Like, if you wanna drop the subject, that’s totally fine. But I mean...I’m sure you remember for a _reason._ Plus, your past with Dr. Coomer is really sweet!”

“Eugh, don’t talk about me and Harold, you’re just gonna get all mushy about it.” Bubby scoffed, turning back to his eggs.

Gordon laughed playfully. “C’mon, like, how about that story where, like—ahh, what was it? The time after, like, Dr. Breen put you back in the tube, but Dr. Coomer spent the whole night after that at your place comforting you? _That’s_ sweet.”

Bubby froze, spatula clattering to the countertop. He whirled around, fixing Gordon with an incredulous stare. “How do you know that?”

Gordon’s smile fell. “Huh?”

“Did Harold tell you that? _I_ certainly fucking didn’t.”

Gordon paused, looking down at his lap. “Uhhh...I don’t...I mean, one of you would’ve had to tell me, right?”

Bubby stared at Gordon, posture growing increasingly defensive.

>Goddammit, are previous events bleeding through to Gordon now?! This is a fucking nightmare. Better switch over to Bubby._

****

“I-I’m sorry, Bubby, I don’t—I’m not sure how I know that...?” Gordon said, shrinking down into his chair a bit. “I can see how that’s like, _really_ personal. I’m really sorry.”

Bubby took a deep breath. He was feeling...intense. Bad. He forced himself to slow down a little, the extreme emotions brewing in him threatening to make him snap. What _was_ he feeling, specifically? He tried to think. Angry? No, he was...embarrassed. But Gordon looked just as confused as Bubby felt. So he turned back to his eggs, appropriately smoking in the pan, now. He took a moment to flip them over, the bottom nicely charred, just as he liked it. Once he was done with that, he slowly turned back to Gordon.

“It’s...okay.” Bubby said, forcing out a tense breath. “I’m sure you didn’t _mean_ to just happen to know something deeply personal about my past.”

Gordon nodded. “Yeah, like—I _really_ have no idea why I know that. It’s just...sorta in my head. Y’know?”

Bubby crossed his arms uncomfortably. “So, you can’t remember anything from before you woke up in the game, but you get to remember shit from _my_ life?”

Gordon shrugged uneasily.

Bubby let out a deep sigh. “...I guess...that kind of makes sense, given that you’re the player. I _hate_ it. But I can sort of see it.” He grumbled, pushing his glasses up on his face. “If you could...try to avoid doing that in the future...”

“O-of course, Bubby.”

“Daddy!” Joshua shouted, barreling inside from the backyard and cupping something carefully in his hands. Sunkist followed him in, sniffing the table for crumbs before sitting down politely by Gordon.

“Whaddya got there?” Gordon asked, leaning down to look at Joshua’s little hands.

Joshua opened them, revealing a toad.

“What—Josh, don’t bring that insi—aahhh!” Gordon jumped out of his chair in surprise when the toad leapt into his lap to escape Joshua. The toad plopped onto the floor, approached curiously by Sunkist.

Bubby was there in an instant before Sunkist could make any investigative move, scooping the toad up carefully in his hands and looking it over. “This is a young Texas toad.” He said, showing it to Joshua. “You wouldn’t want Sunkist to touch it. It’s not safe for dogs—well, _she’d_ probably be fine, but she might hurt it.”

Joshua nodded, moving to poke the toad. Bubby held it away from him, though, only to receive an annoyed grunt from Joshua.

“You don’t want to hold a toad too much, Joshua.” Bubby told him, nodding for him to follow. “Humans have oils and dirt on their skin that can make them sick.”

“But _you’re_ holding it!” Joshua complained as he followed Bubby to the backyard.

“I’m not human, so it’s okay.” Bubby replied. He was sort of lying—in the moment, he had no choice but to pick it up, so there was potential for it to still be harmful for the toad, but he was going to be quick to release it. “I think it’s breeding season for it, so we’d better let it back outside.”

Joshua eagerly followed Bubby outside. Gordon followed as well, leaning in the doorway as he watched Bubby release the toad and explain more about it to Joshua. Bubby hadn’t quite expected Joshua to be so interested—he didn’t actually know all that much about Texas toads, but he told Joshua everything he happened to know off the top of his head. When he was heading back inside, he caught a smile on Gordon’s face. Bubby huffed performatively, ignoring it as he washed his hands in the sink, helping Joshua do the same.

Bubby finished up cooking, this time avoiding the fire alarm—a grave sacrifice, unfortunately, considering they were best burnt just a little more—before he sat down at the table beside Gordon, glancing at the clock on the stove.

“Where the hell is Harold, anyway?” Bubby asked. “If he was just going to pick up some things before our trip, then—”

As if on cue, Harold pushed through the front door with a couple bags in his hands. Joshua immediately ran to greet him, wrapping his arms around his legs tightly.

“Hello, Joshua!” Harold greeted with a smile. He set the bags down on the floor so he could scoop Joshua up into a tight hug.

“What took you so long?” Bubby asked, breaking one of his eggs apart.

“Oh, I stopped by at the Potion Emporium on the way back, and got a little caught up talking to Darnold, Tommy, and Benry.” Harold replied, setting Joshua down so he could pick the bags back up. He set them on the table, leaning in for a kiss. Bubby only gave him a quick one before pulling away in embarrassment, glancing up at Gordon and biting into his egg.

“How’re they doing?” Gordon asked with a smile.

“They’re doing well! It looks like the arcade game Benry made them is set up, now.” Harold replied, sitting down with them. “The kids seem to enjoy it quite a lot.”

“That’s good. Glad _they_ like it, I really have no idea what that game’s all about.” Gordon said, standing up and stretching. “Well, I’d better head back home and start getting everything ready to go for tonight. I’ll see you guys in a few hours.”

“Bye, Gordon.” Bubby said through a mouthful of his food.

“Goodbye, Gordon! I love you!” Harold chimed in.

“Love you guys.” Gordon replied, scooping up Joshua. Sunkist followed behind eagerly—she’d been dropped off by Tommy to be watched by Bubby specifically, but she always wanted to follow Joshua, so Bubby let her go.

Once they were gone, Bubby leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. “Harold...you didn’t tell him about...that time, right before you got married, Dr. Breen put me in the tube. Right?” He asked tentatively.

Harold furrowed his brow. “No, Bubby, I didn’t. Why do you ask?”

“He just... _knew._ ” Bubby replied, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “I’m sure it’s because he’s the player and all, but...I’d really prefer it if it wasn’t anything weird like that.”

Harold frowned, draping an arm around Bubby’s shoulders. “That’s very strange. He’s never displayed any sort of...knowledge power like that around me before.”

“Hopefully, it was just—sort of a one-time thing.” Bubby said, leaning into Harold. “I don’t know how I feel about Gordon just... _remembering_ stuff like that about me. I don’t want him to see me that way. Someone...trapped and _pitiful._ ”

“Well, I’m sure Gordon doesn’t want to intentionally invade your privacy.” Harold pointed out comfortingly. “Hopefully, if this is going to be a reoccurring thing, he can learn to control it.”

Bubby nodded uncertainly. “...Yeah. I’m...sure he will.”

“Also, Bubby, you were never pitiful.” Harold continued, holding him a little closer. “I’m certain Gordon wouldn’t see you that way if he knew more about your past, either. You were very, _very_ strong for handling life that way. I don’t think I could have done the same.”

Bubby’s stomach twisted as he looked up at Harold. “You _did_ , though.”

Harold tilted his head at him curiously. “...I...what do you mean, Bubby?”

“The clones.” Bubby reminded him. “They were trapped, too, weren’t they?”

Harold was starting to get a look on his face that Bubby knew. He looked away, his eyes starting to unfocus as his muscles relaxed around Bubby. Bubby dropped the subject, burying his face into Harold’s shoulder instead and squeezing him tightly, which always seemed to ground him a bit.

“Sorry.” Bubby murmured.

“I-...it’s fine.” Harold replied, squeezing him tighter again. “Perhaps, if you’re feeling up for it, we ought to go finish packing up.”

Bubby nodded against Harold. “Okay.”

>Oof. This is getting way too close.

>I really gotta step back for a minute, I think. I don't wanna lose my grip on all this and let everyone know I'm here. I don't think they'd really take too well to knowing about me--well, except Benry, of course. And kind of Tommy? Ugh.

>I'd better cut things off right here for now. Gonna go like, watch a show or something and chill. It's WAY too easy to get caught up in here and lose track of time...G-Man must've tilted me, too :/

>Anyways, next time's gonna be great. I SWEAR I'll keep it together. You won't even know I'm here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holly confirming "gary man" on tumblr just yesterday....i was ahead of the curve /j


	25. REPORT: Regarding H.Coomer's clones

Gordon, Joshua, Bubby, and Dr. Coomer all stood in the inner part of the airport, just beyond the security checkpoint. They’d managed to get through just fine—Gordon halfway expected Bubby to panic about TSA, but he was only seeming to grow nervous now that they were getting closer to their gate—but somewhere along the way, they’d lost sight of Tommy and Darnold. A few minutes passed, and Joshua was clearly growing impatient, so Gordon pulled out his phone, dialing Tommy’s number.

“Hi, Gordon.” Tommy greeted.

“Where are you and Darnold?” Gordon asked.

“Darnold, uhh—he needs a few minutes.” Tommy replied. “You guys go ahead to the gate. We’ll catch up with you. Okay?”

“No, no, it’s fine, we can wait.” Gordon insisted, earning an annoyed glance from Bubby. “Is Darnold alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, it’s okay. We’ll be there in a few.”

Gordon said goodbye to Tommy, then flipped his phone shut. He was moving to put it back in his pocket, surprised to feel it start vibrating again. He glanced at the caller ID before flipping it back open. “Benry?”

“Yo. You there yet?” Benry asked.

“No, we literally just got to the airport. It’s gonna be a little while, man. We _told_ you, we only touch down at Seatac at like, 11am tomorrow.” Gordon replied.

“Daddyyy!” Joshua wailed, trying to drag him along. “I wanna go on the plane!”

“I know, bud. We gotta wait for your uncles, though.” Gordon said gently.

“I have uncles?” Benry asked on the other end as Dr. Coomer scooped up Joshua lovingly into his arms.

“I was very clearly talking to my son, Benry.” Gordon answered flatly. He could hear Benry quietly chuckling on the other end. “We’ll call you when we get there. And don’t forget Sunkist. And also, make sure you lock my house up before you go.”

Benry let out a long groan as Gordon watched Dr. Coomer take Joshua to one of the big, floor-length windows overseeing all the planes heading to and from gates.

“That’s gonna take so long, though.” Benry complained. “It’s so boring without all you guys here.”

“You can go without us for a few hours.” Gordon said, looking up towards the security line. He finally caught sight of Tommy’s distinctive propeller cap again above everyone else’s heads—man, Tommy was tall as hell, Gordon thought. “Listen, man, I gotta go. Tommy and Darnold are starting to come through, and we gotta find our gate after that. I’ll see you in a few hours, alright?”

“Nooo, man, I’m bored. Don’t hang up.”

Gordon sighed. “Alright, I can just like, put you on speaker while we head to the gate. That sound good to you?”

“Cool.”

Gordon spotted Tommy coming through the end of the security check. He was meticulously collecting all his things back into the correct pockets as Darnold stepped out as well, looking dazed and overwhelmed. Tommy slipped his shoes back on, helping Darnold get his things together before they approached Gordon and Bubby. Gordon hit the speaker button on his phone, holding it out in front of him as they finally met up.

“Thanks for waiting.” Tommy said, looking curiously at Gordon's phone.

“Yoo, that Tommy? Hey Tommy.” Benry greeted.

“Hi, Benry.” Tommy replied. “Umm—is Sunkist there?”

“Yeah, bro, she’s a dog, she hasn’t gone anywhere.”

“...Can you put her on?”

There was a moment of shuffling noises on the other end until Benry confirmed she was there.

“Hi, Sunkist!” Tommy said with a smile. “I miss you.”

Tommy visibly relaxed when Sunkist barked a couple times on the other end.

“Can we get going, already?” Bubby demanded.

“Yeah, we’d better get moving.” Gordon agreed.

Everyone moved on to the gate, Gordon keeping Benry on the line for as long as he could before their group was called to board the plane. As Gordon stood, collecting his and Joshua’s bags, he held the phone up closer to his face.

“We gotta go, Benry, we’re about to board.” Gordon announced to him. “We’ll call you when we get there. Okay?”

“Uuuuugh. Don’t take too long.”

“I have no control over that, man, but y’know. It’s nighttime, just take a nap or something while you wait.” Gordon suggested, urging Joshua to follow him. “See ya later, Benry.”

Benry let out a deeply theatrical sigh. “Alright. Bye.”

Gordon flipped the phone shut and stuffed it into his pocket, taking Joshua’s hand now that his hand was free. By the time they were settled down on the plane, Gordon was already feeling ready to get comfortable and take a well-deserved nap. Gordon had never been on a plane before, much less first class—glancing back at the seats behind them, he could see they’d made the right decision in shelling out the extra money. Joshua looked absolutely tiny in the extra large seat.

“Look at you! You’re so tiny.” Gordon laughed to Joshua as he helped him with his seatbelt.

“I can’t help it!” Joshua replied loudly.

Gordon laughed some more, putting his finger to his lips. “I know. But we gotta try and be quiet, okay?”

Looking to his side, he could see Dr. Coomer and Bubby just on the other side of the aisle, with Darnold and Tommy in the seats in front of them. Darnold and Bubby both seemed equally tense in the aisle seats; Bubby was heavily preoccupying himself with the little TV in front of him while Darnold was burying his nose in his book, but fidgeting every couple of seconds. Hopefully, once they were in the air, they’d each settle down, Gordon thought as Joshua grabbed his attention again.

As the plane took off, Gordon was mostly preoccupied with sharing Joshua’s excitement; he leaned over his seat a little, listening to Joshua point places out as they moved higher, theorizing about which of the tiny buildings must’ve been home. Once they were high enough in the air and Joshua went quiet, Gordon stole a glance at his friends. Darnold seemed to be calming down, at least, now that they were moving more smoothly. Bubby, on the other hand, had his face buried in Dr. Coomer’s chest. After a few more moments, though, Bubby finally withdrew, letting out a deep breath and focusing on the TV in front of him again. Gordon smiled, turning to Joshua and helping him pick out a movie that interested him. Once that was done, Gordon finally settled back into his seat, closing his eyes to—ideally—sleep the rest of the flight.

Gordon did manage to doze off—the extreme exhaustion helped quite a bit—but was woken again by someone gently shaking his shoulder. Gordon opened his eyes, sitting up and looking blearily at the person who had woken him. Bubby stood there, glancing anxiously back at Dr. Coomer.

“Sorry to wake you up.” Bubby muttered. “But, uhh, Harold _really_ wants to talk to you.”

Gordon glanced around Bubby towards Dr. Coomer. He was staring out the window, the sky still completely dark.

“How much longer do we have?” Gordon asked as he undid his seatbelt and stood.

Bubby only shrugged. “I’ll sit with Joshua while you talk to him. It’s—...don’t...judge him too much, alright?”

Gordon tilted his head curiously at Bubby. “What do you mean?”

“He’s acting sort of...off again.” Bubby murmured, glancing back towards Dr. Coomer. “This just happens sometimes, ever since we left the game. He always insists he’s fine, but I think...”

Bubby stopped mid-sentence, sighing and shaking his head. “Well, anyways, just don’t press him too much about it, he gets stressed enough about it as it is. Alright?”

Gordon nodded slowly. “Yeah, of course.”

Bubby took Gordon’s seat beside Joshua, and Gordon sat down carefully in Bubby’s seat. Dr. Coomer turned to Gordon, no characteristic smile on his face. He looked...exhausted, more stern than he was used to seeing.

“You doing alright, Dr. Coomer?” Gordon asked gently.

“Gordon...” Dr. Coomer started, then paused, looking back out the window. “Do you know what the real world is like?”

Gordon furrowed his brow. “Uhhh...I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’ve...ever experienced anything besides this and the game.”

Dr. Coomer looked back to Gordon. “You’re the player, though. You ought to know what it’s like. Right?”

Gordon frowned, shifting uncomfortably in Bubby’s seat. “I...really don’t, Dr. Coomer. I’m sorry.”

Dr. Coomer didn’t reply. He stared down at his hands in his lap, a sort of hopeless look in his eyes. Gordon placed a hand on Dr. Coomer’s forearm. Dr. Coomer looked up at Gordon in surprise, tensing under his touch. Gordon quickly pulled away.

“Oh, sorry.” Gordon apologized. “So...I mean...why are you so worried about what’s real _now?_ ”

Dr. Coomer looked back out the window. “I’m _always_ concerned about it.”

Gordon bit his lip, struggling to figure out what to say. Truth be told, any time he really got to thinking about reality, he’d get caught up worrying about the details, too—he really wasn’t sure how to console Dr. Coomer in the moment.

“I’m sorry I attacked you in the game.” Dr. Coomer said suddenly.

Gordon stared at him. “Huh?”

Dr. Coomer heaved out a deep sigh, brushing his fingers through what was left of his hair. “I’m sure it must have been terrifying. And...I’ve come to realize you don’t necessarily have as much control as I had assumed. I just...felt trapped. And I _had_ been trapped. All of the clones—while we had the experiences and memories of a man who could leave, we were confined to Black Mesa for many, many years. And when I saw what I thought was an opportunity to not just escape Black Mesa, but escape the prison of the game itself, I wanted to take it. It seems you’re just as much in the dark as we are, though. Unless...you’re lying to us.”

“Well—of course not!” Gordon insisted. “Dr. Coomer, of _course_ I wouldn’t lie to you. I really have no idea what’s out there. Not any more than you do.”

Dr. Coomer looked somewhat comforted by that, at least. He leaned back a little in his seat, finally looking back at Gordon.

“Regardless, I truly am sorry.” He went on. “We’ve spent enough time with you to know that you...really do care about us. So thank you for caring so much. For allowing us to be here.”

“I...yeah. I mean, I don’t think I’m the one who put us here, but otherwise...of course.” Gordon replied cautiously. “You don’t have to apologize for all that though, man. That was all your clones, right? I don’t blame _you_ for that.”

Dr. Coomer got a strange expression on his face. He didn’t look consoled by that; it only seemed to make him more uncomfortable. “It _was_ me, Gordon.”

“...Huh?”

“Well, perhaps not in the sense you think. The original Harold didn’t attack you, no.” Dr. Coomer continued. “The consciousness and power of a clone that died always automatically returned to the original body. Right now, for the time being, I _am_ that clone.”

Gordon took a minute to process this, brushing his hair out of his face and glancing out the dark window beside Dr. Coomer. “So...all the clones still, like, _exist?_ Inside you?”

“More or less.” Dr. Coomer answered, crossing his arms. “Not _all_ of us, I don’t think. And I don’t think the Harold you most frequently speak to—the _original_ Harold—is even fully aware of all of this. Strangely, I wasn’t even fully aware at first, either—it took a few times for me to finally piece together what’s been going on. But, well, we ended up so different from the original in many ways, after being forced to live our own lives. That doesn’t necessarily go away so easily.”

“...Huh.” Gordon muttered. “So you can just like, switch in and out of—like...control of your body? How does Dr. Coomer not realize what’s going on?”

“We can’t necessarily switch out at will. It only happens when something seems to... _activate_ us. Seeing the dark sky like this...well, that normally does it for me.” Dr. Coomer explained thoughtfully. “We all seem to experience varying levels of awareness of one another. And...this is my first opportunity to really tell anyone all this.”

“That must get pretty confusing.”

Dr. Coomer shrugged. “I suppose I’m just still concerned about reality. I’m...quite afraid of what it means to not be real, actually.”

Dr. Coomer looked down into his lap, fingers curling into fists. Gordon reached out towards him instinctively, but quickly remembered his reaction last time and pulled away.

“Yeah.” Gordon sighed. “It’s...easy to forget sometimes, I guess. But yeah. It’s pretty fucked up, just like, _knowing_ you’re not real.”

“That’s part of why I wanted to escape so badly. I’m nervous to think that one day, we could simply...stop existing entirely.”

Gordon glanced back towards Bubby and Joshua. Joshua seemed to be describing the plot of the movie he’d been watching to him, Bubby nodding along wordlessly as he talked. Gordon nodded. “...Yeah. Pretty scary.”

They fell into a brief silence, Gordon struggling to think of something appropriate to say. What _could_ he say? He wondered. In the face of the possibility of simply ceasing to exist for some entirely, unjust reason, what is ever going to sound comforting? Gordon glanced up, jumping in surprise to see glowing eyes staring back down at him. Tommy was kneeling backwards in his seat, clearly thinking he had been subtle about listening in up to this point; he looked sheepishly back at Gordon, now, clearing his throat as Dr. Coomer noticed him as well.

“S-sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear.” Tommy mumbled. “Dr. Coomer...uhh, first of all, sorry I killed you. And all your other clones.”

“That’s quite alright, Tommy. I _was_ trying to wear Gordon like a puppet.”

Gordon shuddered a little bit.

“But, umm...so...” Tommy paused, biting his lip as he thought. “All that stuff, about how this isn’t real...I think I sort of get it a little more—uhh, a little more than I used to. I don’t think that we’re gonna disappear any time soon.”

Dr. Coomer looked at Tommy with wide eyes. “How are you sure?”

Tommy slowly shrugged. “I think, like—uhh, there’s...there’s a _reason_ we’re here. A reason that, like, hasn’t been fulfilled yet. You know? And as long as we keep living our lives, and—as long as we keep close to each other, and trust each other, and trust _Gordon_ , it’s gonna be okay.”

“What?” Gordon questioned. “Why me?”

Tommy shrugged again.

“That’s...that’s all really sweet, Tommy, I’m glad that like, we’re all here together and you guys trust me, but...” Gordon crossed his arms uncomfortably. “I’m...I feel like I’m just the same as you guys. I’ve never been more in control or more in the know than any of you.”

The three fell into a contemplative silence, Gordon glancing back at Bubby and Joshua. Gordon wondered what his life truly must have been like before the game. When you pick up a game where the player character clearly has an established life, you don’t start when the character is born—there are hints, hidden around the maps and within the dialogue, that tell the player what sort of life the character led before the game started. That doesn’t mean it _literally_ happened. Photos are just that—hints, crafted by the game designers, to give the illusion of a life before the game.

As far as Gordon was aware, he started existing the minute the game was booted up. The player knew _he_ existed. But he never knew the player existed until much, much later, in a theoretical sense. The player knew so much about his life, and yet he couldn’t ever possibly comprehend what sort of person the player was like.

Gordon distantly registered Tommy and Dr. Coomer talking, now, as he stared off into space. He sort of remembered feeling different in the game than he did now, he recognized. There were times when, presumably, the player _took over_ —to say something important to his friends, or maybe to an audience. Other than that, everything else had felt so much like it was his own actions. Was the player still there? Gordon wondered.

Gordon wondered it hard. He closed his eyes, reaching internally, thinking the thought as clearly as he could. _Are you still there?_

>...

Gordon sighed. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy, would it? He thought.

Gordon sat on the outskirts of Dr. Coomer and Tommy’s conversation the rest of the flight, not processing a word of it until it was time for everyone to settle in for landing. Bubby and Gordon swapped places again, and once they were clear to leave, Gordon carefully gathered everything up and took Joshua’s hand, heading out into the airport exhaustedly. That horrible flu-like feeling was creeping up in him again, a familiar fog in his head making it difficult to think. Darnold ended up taking on the responsibility of getting the car rental settled instead, and soon, they were on the road to their rental house.

Gordon stared curiously out the window as they reached the city itself; it _did_ , in fact, feel familiar to him. Or was he just convincing himself it did? He wondered. No, something about it felt...nostalgic, he thought. Like it wasn’t quite home, anymore, but he _knew_ it had been, once. As they parked at the rental house, Tommy had his phone out in an instant as he clambered out of the van.

“Benry, we’re here.” Tommy announced into his phone. “I’ll send you a picture. And please, _please,_ _don’t_ forget Sunkist.”

Tommy ended the call shortly after, snapping a picture on his phone to send to Benry. Shortly after, Benry arrived with Sunkist by his side, squinting and shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Sunkist!” Tommy greeted excitedly. Sunkist hopped up and put her front legs on his shoulders to lick his face as he scratched her ears. Joshua was quick to greet Sunkist as well, wrapping his arms around her with a big smile on his face.

“Yo.” Benry said, looking at Tommy, then everyone else.

“Hey, man.” Gordon said, patting Benry’s shoulder and yawning. “Thanks for being patient.”

Tommy finished greeting Sunkist, asking her politely to get down and squeezing Benry’s other shoulder. “Thanks, Benry. I was—I didn’t want her to have to be stressed on an airplane.”

Benry shrugged. “No prob.”

“I think I need a nap.” Gordon announced, brushing his hair out of his face as Darnold finally got the front door unlocked.

“Aww, man, I just got here, though.” Benry complained.

“I didn’t sleep on the plane much.” Gordon pointed out as they all headed into the rental.

The others sleepily agreed as they left their bags behind at the front door, immediately heading for any soft surface they could find. Gordon picked out the room he and Joshua would be sharing, making sure he got settled first before he flopped down on the couch himself—he usually had an easier time napping on a couch than in a bed—and draped his arm over his eyes. Gordon heard someone sitting down nearby, followed by the TV turning on. Gordon moved his arm a little bit so he could see who had the remote—predictably finding Benry.

“This ok?” Benry asked, though it seemed more like an afterthought than anything else.

“Sure.” Gordon muttered. The background noise would be nice, at least, he thought as he rested his arm over his eyes again.

“Hey, Gordon.” Tommy said above Gordon.

“Yeah?”

“Are you doing alright?” Tommy asked tentatively. Gordon looked up at him, watching him lean against the back of the couch and pick at the fabric of it carefully. “You sorta went—uhh, you stopped talking on the plane, and you seemed...like you weren’t doing so well.”

Gordon nodded. “Yeah. I’m just tired, Tommy. Thanks though.”

“Okay. Umm, I’m gonna nap, too. I’ll see you in a little while.”

Gordon settled back in, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Alright. Night, Tommy.”

Gordon had a lot on his mind at the moment. Reality, his memories, the wellbeing of his friends—but surely, he’d be feeling a lot more ready to tackle it all once he had a good long nap.


	26. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman (pt.1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: discussions/depictions of pregnancy, and a brief mention of past misgendering (DISCLAIMER i am a trans man and writing off experiences i've read from other trans men lol like if i get something fucked up i'm open to hearing about it but if ur truscum leave me alooone)
> 
> here comes the .5 oc...sorry if this chapter is kinda boring for a good part of it but like trust me there's a payoff!!

The first day in Seattle was a lazy one, considering the exhaustion they faced after their flight. They stayed in, getting themselves adjusted before getting started with their tourism the next day. Gordon had been hoping his rest from yesterday would help the dissociation—and it did, enough for him to recall that dissociation was indeed something he struggled with—but it didn’t help enough for him to fully enjoy their trip together. Walking down the streets with his friends, along the boardwalk and Pike Place market, Gordon couldn’t shake a constant feeling like he was just barely on the verge of remembering something. Each time he thought he was just about to get a hold of some distant, foggy memory, though, something distracting would happen around him, and the memory would slip right through his fingers.

Gordon tried to let go of the memories on the third day. Forcing himself not to focus too hard on it allowed vague things to come through; he could point out good restaurants and help with directions pretty well, but that was the closest he got. As they passed apartment buildings in some of the more residential areas, Gordon tried to picture himself living there. He probably wouldn’t have lived in Seattle for a while—he went to MIT, after all, so he would have spent a long time in Massachusetts; with all the gentrification happening around them, he wondered if his old apartment building still would have even existed at all. Maybe it got bulldozed over after he set out for college?

“Well, I guess we can never do _that_ again.” Bubby grumbled as they stepped out of the lobby of the Space Needle. “Honestly, it was sort of overrated, anyway.”

“I didn’t even get to look out those binoculars.” Darnold sighed.

“Now, Darnold, there’s plenty more things for us to see here! We’ll just have to see it up close.” Dr. Coomer comforted, wrapping his free arm around Darnold’s shoulders comfortingly.

“Plenty more places for us to get _kicked out_ of.” Tommy pointed out, disappointment clear in his tone.

“I tried to warn you guys, but you didn’t listen to me.” Benry said with a shrug. “Let’s just go eat. I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” Joshua added.

“Oh, absolutely. Do you have any recommendations, Gordon?” Dr. Coomer asked with a smile on his face.

“Uhh—hmmm.” Gordon hummed thoughtfully, glancing around them. “Let’s see if I can remember...I think if we go this way, we’ll see a few places to choose from.”

Gordon led the group down a couple streets, and as he suspected, there were a few restaurants to choose from. After much deliberation—they all had _very_ different tastes in food—they finally chose one, settling down and getting comfortable. It was fairly peaceful, especially considering they’d just gotten done getting kicked out of the Space Needle; Gordon tried to relax, but as he looked out the window to his side, he couldn’t help but feel restless.

“Uhh, hey guys, I’ll be right back.” Gordon said, shuffling out of his seat. “I’ll be back before the food gets here. I just—I gotta get some anxiety outta my system.”

“Alright, Gordon! Is there anything I can do to help you?” Dr. Coomer asked as Gordon headed towards the door.

“Nahhh, it’s fine. I’ll be back before you know it.” Gordon said dismissively.

Gordon headed out of the restaurant, doing his best not to be bothered by the worried looks of his friends. He jogged back towards the Space Needle, plopping down on the grass just outside of it with a deep sigh. He felt bad about leaving his friends behind for the moment; he was sure they were all having a great time, but he desperately needed a little bit of time to think to himself.

Gordon took in a deep breath, remembering his therapist’s advice. He focused on his surroundings carefully, picking out things that caught his attention and really studying it. A kid’s bright red Spiderman shirt stuck out to him first. Then he noticed the sounds of seagulls around him, fighting over fries tossed aside carelessly by a tourist. The air sort of smelled different than at their rental—they were closer to the Puget Sound here, the wind carrying in the smell of the water. He felt the grass beneath him, slightly damp, but a nice feeling against his skin. It was certainly well-maintained for appearances, but it was still obviously _real_ , as opposed to the grass on, say, a football field.

The turf on a college football field was really just there for appearances. He’d gotten so used to the feeling of it, though, lying on the ground during practice after classes. Sure, he was sort of a jock and greatly enjoyed football, but the expectations of college football were a lot; there were plenty of times he’d begun to wonder if it was really worth it. Except, of course, the scholarships he got from it more than paid for his courses, so that thought process was always quickly stamped out.

“Hey, Gordon. You die yet?” A familiar voice asked.

Gordon, lying flat on his back, tilted his head back to look at a friend.

“Uuugh. Sure, why not?” Gordon groaned. “Just go ahead and hold the funeral for me right here. I’ll haunt the future football teams forever.”

His friend laughed, dropping his bag on Gordon’s chest and sitting down on a bench close by. “There you go. Buried you and everything. Except, y’know, are you _sure_ you wanna haunt the football teams? Seems like there’s more exciting places to haunt than this.”

“Well, I died as I lived, y’know? Sorta dragging down the team. It’s the least I can do for all those future teams.”

“Buddy, you don’t drag down the team, you do just fine.” His friend said reassuringly. “Actually, I sorta need my bag back, so I’m just gonna unbury you here.”

Gordon let out an appreciative sigh as the pressure on his chest was pulled away. “Yeah. I guess. I’m just kinda exhausted, is all.”

“Freeman!” His coach shouted from the other end of the field. “Breaktime’s over, get back over here!”

Gordon groaned again, dragging himself back up to his feet. “I guess I’m getting back to it.”

“Alright. I’ll just be here, doing my work.” His friend said, pointedly pulling out a binder from his bag. “Wanna get dinner after? I’ll buy.”

“Yeah, sure! Thanks.” Gordon nodded, hyping himself up to rejoin his team. Once he was ready, he started jogging off, casting one final glance over his shoulder. “Love you, dude.”

“Love you, too.”

Gordon reopened his eyes.

“Holy shit.” He breathed, heart racing. He scrambled to his feet, reorienting himself to where he was now. He was still in Seattle, just a couple streets down from his friends.

Part of him wanted to run back to the restaurant, loudly proclaiming that he’d just had his first distinct pre-game memory. On the other hand, he felt somewhat of a strange tug in his chest. Something beckoning him the opposite direction. Gordon glanced guiltily back towards the restaurant before following that beckoning feeling.

That friend had been a friend for a while. When Gordon thought hard, he could remember a name: Barnaby. They’d met in high school at first, then moved on to college together, studying at the same school—in fact, _that_ was the college friend who sometimes watched Josh for him, the very same one who had been watching him during the resonance cascade, Gordon realized with a start. They’d been pretty close, sort of dated a couple times, but ultimately decided they were better off just friends.

Gordon, with total muscle memory, impulsively boarded a bus at a stop he’d almost walked right past, sitting down and drumming his fingers on his knees. He felt sort of bad—between forgetting their history altogether and how busy he was parenting Joshua on top of managing his symptoms, he’d never called Barnaby about what happened. In fact, he’d even _moved_ , and gotten a new phone, without even telling him. Okay, Gordon felt _really_ bad, he thought as he hopped off the bus. He walked down just a block to a park he couldn’t help but feel like he knew well. He plopped down in the grass again, just like before, staring up at the sky thoughtfully. This was much more of a residential area than most of the places they’d been seeing—it certainly wasn’t a suburb, but it was, Gordon knew without a shadow of a doubt, where he grew up.

Gordon looked around him, expecting another big memory to hit. This was how things were gonna work, right? He thought. He goes somewhere, sits down, and gets another memory, right? Nothing hit just yet, though. Instead, his eyes caught on someone sitting nearby—someone pregnant, sitting on a bench. Gordon distantly remembered what that was like. It was sort of miserable, but sort of magical at the same time—but everything miserable about it had been made so, so incredibly worth it by the birth of his son.

The realization that he was pregnant had really shaken him to his core. He’d dissociated in his bathroom for a very long time that morning, skipped out on his classes, and headed to Barnaby’s dorm as soon as he knew he’d be home. He simply let himself in—yeah, he was _that_ kind of roommate’s annoying friend, but fortunately, only Barnaby was home—and sat down beside Barnaby, who looked at Gordon curiously.

“Hey, Gordon. What’s up?” Barnaby asked.

“Dude...I’m, uhhh...” Gordon bit his lip, experimentally running his hand over his stomach.

Before Gordon could even get the word out out, Barnaby’s expression changed, clearly picking up on what Gordon was trying to say. He remained silent, though, allowing Gordon to be the one to voice it.

“I’m pregnant.” Gordon finally announced.

“...Damn.” Barnaby muttered, leaning back in his chair. “...What do you...do you know what you want to happen, yet?”

Gordon paused, drumming his fingers on his knees. “I don’t know. Uhh, I guess...I need a little bit of time to think about it...?”

Barnaby nodded. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

“...What would _you_ want?”

Barnaby crossed his arms, looking down at his textbooks. “Umm...I don’t really know, either.”

The two fell into a long, tense silence. Gordon leaned back with a sigh, imagining where he’d be in 9 months, if he chose to go through with it. It might be tough, but...

Gordon eventually left Barnaby’s dorm, talked to his counselor, and got a bunch of intensive plans laid out. Just “theoretically”, he kept telling himself—just in case he _did_ want a kid. And he took his several-step plan to Barnaby, ready to just “go over the options”. As soon as he approached him, though, he declared his decision that he had been trying his very hardest not to get too attached to.

“I wanna be a dad.” Gordon announced to Barnaby definitively. “I really, _really_ want this. And I think I can manage it, if I drop football, take out some loans and go really hard on my classes.”

Barnaby stared at him in shock, mouth slightly agape. “Oh. I mean—yeah, I’ll...I’ll help you.”

Gordon deflated a little, squeezing the straps of his backpack in his hands. “I mean...how do _you_ feel about it?”

Barnaby looked away, crossing his arms uncomfortably. “I’m ready to help you however much you need, just...I don’t know. I was thinking about it, and, like—I don’t know that _I’m_ ready to...be a dad.”

Gordon nodded. “Uhh, yeah. That makes sense. I wasn’t, like—I wasn’t getting myself all hyped up over the idea of, like, us... _getting married_ or anything.”

“When you say it like that, it kinda sounds like you were.” Barnaby pointed out in his usual, playful tone, but Gordon wasn’t sure he was in the right head space to be joking around.

“No, legitimately!” Gordon said defensively. “I’m just trying to say, uhh...I can do this on my own. I can be a single dad. Plenty of people do it, right? As long as I stick to this plan and everything, I should be good.”

“Well, I’m not gonna make you do this _completely_ alone.” Barnaby said, much more serious, now. “I can help you out as a friend. Like, financially, babysit when you need...that kind of thing. I just...don’t know that I’m ready to be considered a father.”

“Yeah. Okay. That sounds good.” Gordon replied with an anxious, excited smile. “Thanks for being supportive, man. It really means a lot.”

Barnaby let out a short, relieved sigh. “Yeah, of course. Uhh...sorry I’m not, like, gonna be co-parenting, necessarily. Not _officially_.”

Gordon pulled Barnaby into a tight hug. “No, that’s totally fine, dude. I didn’t expect that from you. It’s sudden, we’re still in college, and I don’t really wanna force you into anything you’re not ready for. I’m just glad to hear you’re willing to help me out.”

“I’m excited for you, Gordon.” Barnaby said, hugging Gordon back.

Gordon smiled brightly. “Me, too.”

Somehow, against all odds, Gordon managed to finish his degree a little early. Okay, so it took a _little_ cheating here and there—could anyone blame him? He was pregnant and trying to finish things up before his baby came, what was he meant to do? Once he had his degree, he returned to Seattle, renting an apartment close to his parents with Barnaby—just in case he needed a backup plan, though he wasn’t actively planning on letting them get too involved in his upcoming child’s life if he could help it. Gordon’s initial plan of getting himself into a job as soon as possible didn’t turn out to be necessary; Barnaby got a job that managed to cover both of them for the time being, allowing Gordon to finally get all the rest he needed.

Gordon remembered being just nearby where he was now, on a blanket Barnaby had laid out for them. Gordon grunted as he eased himself down. It had been a nice thought, sitting outside in the park to get some sun, but he was already sorely missing the comfort of the couch back in their apartment; getting up and down from the ground while very pregnant wasn’t as easy as Barnaby seemed to think.

“You good?” Barnaby asked as Gordon settled down.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Gordon replied as he did his best to get comfortable. “Ugh. I’m just gonna...like...”

Gordon eased himself down, lying on his side with a deep sigh. “There.” He mumbled.

“I’m realizing maybe this wasn’t the best choice.” Barnaby admitted sheepishly. “You wanna move somewhere else?”

“Oh, what, you ask me that when I’m already laying down?” Gordon questioned, the frustration in his tone about 90% playful. “C’mon, man, think these things through next time.”

Barnaby laughed. “Sorry.”

Gordon got himself a little more comfortable, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the sun. It _was_ good to get out of the apartment just to chill; he’d sort of been avoiding it for a number of reasons, only going out when absolutely necessary. Dysphoria definitely being one of them—he had ups and downs, days where he felt like the pregnancy reframed the whole way he viewed his body, then someone would give him a “ma’am” or a “she” and he’d want to hide for the next several days again. Getting out just for the sake of it, though, was something he’d been sorely missing ever since Barnaby had offered to take care of him.

“So, uhh, you decide on a name yet?” Barnaby asked.

Gordon shrugged. “Dunno yet. I kinda like the name Joshua, though.”

“Yeah, that’s cute.” Barnaby said with a nod. “Oh, yeah—while you were still asleep this morning, that guy called again.”

“Seriously?” Gordon asked, looking up at Barnaby. “That Black Mesa guy?”

“Yup. Says he’s ‘ _very,_ eager to discuss your...employment opportunities’.”

Gordon laughed at Barnaby’s impression of the mysterious man who kept calling. “Well, I guess I know what I’ll do once Josh is born, if they really want me there so bad.”

“You sure you wanna move all the way out to New Mexico?” Barnaby questioned.

Gordon shrugged. “Yeah, I mean—I don’t know. If they’re so dead set on having me, might as well, right? I hear the pay’s really good. At least...I mean, I don’t know what _you_ have planned.”

“Well...y’know how my job is. I can work anywhere.” Barnaby said thoughtfully.

“You sure? I could probably find something closer, if you’d rather stick around here.”

“The rent is probably a _lot_ cheaper out in New Mexico.” Barnaby pointed out. “I like it here, but like, the cost of raising a kid up here is gonna be kinda insane. If you can get some really good paying job out there, we might as well go for it.”

“...Alright. Yeah, I mean, that’s also something we can think about over the next couple months. It’s not like I’ll be good to move immediately after Josh is born.”

Barnaby chuckled a little. “You sound pretty set on the name Joshua.”

Gordon smiled, looking up at the sky. “Yeah, I guess. I just like the sound of it.”

Things went according to plan in the following months; Joshua was born, and Gordon spent a little while staying at home to take care of him. It was exhausting, but fulfilling—Gordon couldn’t possibly be more happy he’d gone through with it. After a couple months, Gordon called the Black Mesa hiring number; honestly, he was hoping to get a little bit more time staying at home with Joshua before he started working again, but he was going to have to call them and figure out a plan sooner or later.

“This is the Black Mesa hiring department. How can I help you today?” A chipper voice asked.

“Uhh—hi, I’ve been contacted a few times by someone in your department, I think.” Gordon said, cradling Joshua in his free arm. “I don’t actually know his name, he never says it, but I guess he keeps telling me I have the right qualifications for a research assistant position there...?”

“Oh, let me have a look here. We get quite a few recommendations, I’ll see if you’re already noted in here. What’s your name?”

“Gordon Freeman.”

“Oh, _Dr. Freeman._ I know you.” The person on the other said. “Let’s see...I’ve got your file here already...looks like one of our upper contacts recommended you.”

As the person on the other end talked about qualifications, Gordon couldn’t help but wonder what the hell kind of company Black Mesa was. Did companies usually keep a _database_ like this of prospective employees?

“Uhh—so, I’m living in Seattle right now. And I just had a baby.” Gordon went on anxiously. “I _am_ interested in the position, but I’m gonna need a little bit of time. Is this, like, a single position, or is there any possibility I could count on something still being open in the next couple of months?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Dr. Freeman. If you’re interested in the position, we’ll be holding a spot for you.” The person said politely. “You said you’re in Seattle right now? If you’d like to go through some phone interviews and secure the spot as soon as possible, we could get you in our database, and we could help you with the relocation fees.”

“Huh? Really? That’s...that’s great.” Gordon said hesitantly. It was _weird_ , but hey, he wasn’t going to turn down something like that. “Yeah, I’d love to do that. Thank you.”

Gordon stared up at the sky, just passively letting these memories flow. It was so strange, looking back and remembering a life before the game; a life before his current friends. And poor Barnaby—he’d just sort of disappeared from his life, taking Joshua along with him. He may not have been considering himself Joshua’s dad officially, but surely, that must have still taken a toll on him, right?

“Gordon?”

Gordon sat up, eyes widening as he recognized the man standing over him.

“Barnaby!” Gordon said, scrambling to his feet. “Holy shit. It’s you. I was just—I was just thinking about you.”

Barnaby, as Gordon should have predicted before he blurted that out, got a highly conflicted look on his face.

“Well, that’s...uhhh, nice?” Barnaby muttered awkwardly. “What the hell happened to you? You didn’t call me back, then you just, like, _disappeared._ ”

Gordon frowned guiltily. “Yeah. Uhhh, I’m _really_ sorry about that. Things’ve been kinda weird for a little bit.”

Barnaby sat down on the grass. “Yeah? What happened?”

Gordon plopped down beside him, wondering exactly how much he should tell Barnaby. Maybe he’d go with the strategy he was currently going with for his therapist? Talk about Black Mesa and memory loss, but avoid the subject of reality?

That’s what Gordon ended up doing. He told Barnaby about the resonance cascade—confidentiality agreement be damned—his new friends, and the memory loss, unresolved until just that day. There was no need to go on a whole tirade about video game worlds and reality; he couldn’t expect Barnaby to believe any of that, and if he _did_ , he certainly didn’t want the poor guy to be saddled with the same worries about reality that kept Gordon up at night.

“God. What a coincidence, right?” Barnaby asked. “I mean, you have this wild memory loss, then the minute you start remembering things again, turns out we’re back here again at the same time and run into each other?”

“It’s probably not a coincidence.” Gordon murmured thoughtfully.

“Huh?”

Gordon waved his hand dismissively. “Ehhh. It’s nothing. But...y’know. I’m sorry.”

Barnaby sighed, resting his head in his hand. “...It’s alright. I _really_ wish I hadn’t missed out on so much with Josh, but...well, it sounds like that’s not really your fault. Plus, I’ve, uhh...I’ve been pretty busy myself, actually. So y’know.”

“Oh, yeah? What have you been doing?”

Barnaby smiled a little bit, averting his eyes shyly. “I got married, actually.”

“Oh, shit!” Gordon exclaimed, punching him in the arm enthusiastically. “That’s awesome! Was it that same guy you moved in with after I started working?”

“Yeah! We’re actually on our honeymoon right now.”

“Oh, where are they?” Gordon asked, glancing around at the park.

“They’re back at our hotel. They’re feeling kinda sick, so I decided to take a walk back here.” Barnaby replied, glancing knowingly in the direction their old apartment used to be. Then, he turned back to Gordon. “Where _is_ Joshua?”

Gordon looked guiltily in the vague direction of the restaurant. “He’s back with my friends right now. I sorta...walked off on my own. I bet they’re looking for me. I guess I’d better call ‘em.” He said, patting his pocket. He frowned when he found it empty, patting his other pocket—only finding his wallet. “Ahh, shit. I think I left my phone at the restaurant.”

“Oh, you wanna use mine?” Barnaby offered, pulling out his phone.

Gordon reached to accept the phone. He didn’t remember his friends’ phone numbers off the top of his head, but he knew his own—surely, one of them would have it on hand after noticing he’d been gone too long. As his fingers brushed over Barnaby’s, another memory hit him hard.

Barnaby had been handing Gordon a paper towel. Gordon folded it up, turning to Joshua to wipe his face off. They’d moved to New Mexico just recently enough to still have things in boxes, nudged to the sides to make space for them to move around at least somewhat easily. Barnaby navigated around a couple of them so he could sit down at the table as well with his plate of food. Gordon was more than ready to dig in himself, fork halfway to his mouth when there was a knock at the door. Gordon sighed, rubbing his face exhaustedly. It was probably one of the neighbors again, demanding that he somehow, miraculously get Joshua to stop crying at night— _trust me, if I could do that, I’d do it in a heartbeat_ , he always wanted to say.

“I can get it.” Barnaby offered as Gordon stood.

“Nah, man, it’s fine, I’ll get it.” Gordon replied, heading towards the door. He opened it to find someone decidedly _not_ one of his neighbors.

“Hello, Gordon Freeman.” A man in an incredibly expensive looking suit greeted politely. “It’s good to, see you, in the flesh.”

Gordon couldn’t mistake that voice. It was the man who’d been calling him to join Black Mesa, he realized. He brushed his hand through his now shoulder length hair self-consciously—he hadn’t been out of the apartment in a little while, and it really showed.

“Oh! Hi. You’re, uhh—you’re that Black Mesa guy, right?” Gordon asked, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

The man shook Gordon’s hand. His skin was _cold_ , Gordon noted—and it felt strange in his own hand, sort of...squishier than he expected. Gordon wanted to pull his hand away, stuff it in his pocket to hide the fact that he desperately needed to brush that awful feeling off, but the man held his hand firmly.

“Yes. It has been, a while, hasn’t it?” The man said, tightening his grip around Gordon’s hand.

“Uhh—yeah?” Gordon replied awkwardly. A while? They’d never met before in person at all. Maybe he just meant it had been a while since they last talked, he thought—but the strange pressure around his hand was making it hard to feel so rational about what was going on.

“Dr. Freeman, why don’t we...have a, chat, somewhere in private?” The man suggested.

“Uhhhh...I gotta...get back to my son.” Gordon replied, tugging gently on his hand. When the man tightened his grip even more, Gordon tried to pull away more harshly, but his grip was much tighter than it looked like it should have been. “Hey, man, let go of me.”

Gordon’s breath caught in his throat as he felt a strange pressure closing in on him—like the air around him was trying to restrain him. He turned back towards Barnaby.

“Barnaby! Help!” Gordon called. Barnaby sat completely still, staring at Gordon; in fact, Gordon noticed, he wasn’t even _blinking._ Joshua was eerily still as well, right in the middle of throwing a piece of cereal. The cereal was frozen, suspended in mid-air on its way to the ground. “...Huh?”

Gordon turned back to the man. He had a smug look in his eyes as he finally released Gordon’s hand. Gordon moved to start running towards the table, grab Josh and find some other way out of the apartment, stumbling over his feet and stopping when the world seemed to fall apart around him. Instead of his apartment, he found a black void, surrounded by tiny streaks of white lights; the pressure on him was eased up, at least, but that didn’t make it any easier for Gordon to breathe. He wheezed, clutching his chest as panic gripped him. He turned back towards the strange man.

“Apologies, Dr. Freeman, but I will need to...hold on, to you...for the time being.” The man said. “Not to worry. I will not harm your friends. In fact, one of them, is here...right now.”

The man stepped aside, revealing another man behind him. He was tall and lanky, wearing pajama pants and a slightly oversized yellow shirt with a strange face on it; two bright, cartoon eyes with goggles over them, a big smile, and thin whisps of hair, but no body to speak of. It must’ve been from some kid’s movie Gordon hadn’t seen. The man looked like he’d just rolled out of bed as he stared blearily back at Gordon.

“...Gordon?” The man asked, rubbing at his eyes. “That’s...you, right?”

Gordon furrowed his brow. “I— _what?_ I don’t know this guy. What the fuck is going on, here?”

“There’s...no reason to, worry, Dr. Freeman.” The man in the suit replied, adjusting his tie. “Just sit back...and enjoy the show.”

****

Gordon opened his eyes.

Wherever he was, it was _loud._ Gordon looked around in surprise, the sound of a very distinctive band one of his best friends would never let him forget drilling into his skull. He was in an auditorium, very close to the stage of what was, apparently, the band themselves: Mötley Crüe. His friends were to his sides, all experiencing varying levels of “enjoyment” of the concert. Dr. Coomer looked nervous, staring at Bubby intently as Bubby screamed along to the song currently playing. Tommy looked vaguely overwhelmed by the noise, even with the earplugs he was wearing. Darnold yawned, almost looking like a bored judge on a TV talent show. Joshua wasn’t here, for some reason; surely they wouldn’t have just forgotten him. _Surely_ he was somewhere safe, Gordon thought to himself anxiously. Benry, on the other hand, sat directly beside Gordon, was staring right back at him.

“What’s—what’s happening?” Gordon asked over the music.

Benry shrugged. “Dunno. Figured _you_ would know. Lost your grip again, huh?”

>Ohhh, that was just evil. You're REALLY playing dirty now, aren't you, G-Man?

>What, so Tommy wasn't enough for you, huh? You had to go and somehow, like, RETROACTIVELY take Gordon from me, too??? Gordon fucking Freeman??? The PLAYER CHARACTER????

>Oh, this is personal now. You wanna get into it? You wanna fucking go? I'll find a way to get you. Trust me, I may not be able to come and kick your ass in person, but I'll manage. I CAN, and I WILL get your ass kicked.

>You SUCK. You know that? What's your problem?? Is it not enough to just let my friends lead normal lives?? What the hell are you even trying to do, huh? What do you have to prove? You could totally live a normal life too, if you wanted. I bet you Tommy would've been willing to like, you know, just TALK to you as an adult if you weren't being like this. He would actually be really interested to know about being an alien and where you come from, but you were being a shithead about it!!

>Y'know what? Fuck it. We're getting into it for real. I know you can't hear me NOW, but let's see how you like...THIS!

>...

>Actually this is gonna take a minute. Uhh, sorry guys. I'll be back in a little bit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u can tell i live kinda close to seattle from how i wrote this chapter i'm sure lol


	27. REPORT: Regarding the limitations of the Player

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	28. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman (pt.2)

>Okay. That didn't work.

>I don't know WHY that didn't work. It really should?

>Uhhh...let's see here...

>Fuck. My hands are sorta tied until Dr. Coomer and Bubby get married. Man, I don't wanna rush that! That goes against everything that I'm here for! That's a HUGE event. I CAN'T rush that.

>...Goddammit. Okay, technically, HE can't necessarily pull too much shit until then either, I think, so let's not worry about it for now. If he shows up again, I'll...

>I'll figure something out.

>Until then, I'm gonna pull back a little bit and check on Gordon the best I can. We'll get to the rest later._

****

Gordon had promised to be back before the food got there.

Bubby had already finished eating; he was sort of a fast eater. Everyone else was still uneasily taking their time, but Bubby now had the freedom to stare thoughtfully out the window. Gordon had been acting strange ever since his conversation with Harold on the flight. Harold was back to his original self, but Bubby wondered if something from then had really stuck with Gordon. Or, perhaps, being in the city he grew up in was really taking a toll on him.

There was probably no reason to worry, some part of Bubby thought. Then again...there was a knot forming in his stomach. Something telling him that something was very, very wrong.

“I’m gonna call him.” Bubby announced, pulling out his phone. He dialed Gordon’s number, putting his phone to his ear, only to hear the obnoxious vibration of a phone on the table. Bubby looked down at where Gordon had been sitting—his phone was still there. With an annoyed sigh, Bubby flipped his phone shut.

“Maybe he got turned around.” Tommy suggested.

“...Maybe.” Bubby muttered. After a moment, he slid out of his seat. “I’m gonna go look for him.”

“Oh, give me just a moment, I’ll come with you.” Harold said, quickly collecting his things.

“No, you finish eating.” Bubby said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “If I don’t find him by the time you’re done, maybe it’ll be better to split up, anyway.”

“Do you think this is serious?” Harold asked, furrowing his brow and placing his hand on Bubby’s.

Bubby shrugged it off. “...I don’t know for sure. I’m just...worried about him.”

Harold squeezed his hand. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

Bubby nodded. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll call you if I need help.”

“...Alright.” Harold released Bubby’s hand. “Be safe out there. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Bubby replied, face burning a little bit at the way his friends looked at him as he said it. “Be back soon.”

Bubby made doubly sure he had his cell phone with him before leaving, plunging himself back into the busy street entirely on his own. Bubby bristled at the way people would brush past him, wishing desperately his dress had pockets to shove his hands into. Instead, he reached into his purse, pulling out a little stress ball and squeezing it hard in his hands. He ended up backtracking a little bit, getting a pretty good feeling about going towards the Space Needle. Gordon wasn’t there, though; Bubby let out an annoyed—no, concerned?—sigh as he continued on, searching the crowds carefully for his friend.

Bubby got himself very lost searching for him. He’d get a good feeling he was going the right direction before something would turn him away—there was a _lot_ of construction in the area, so that usually meant the sound of some power drill or the dizzying sight of a massive construction crane would get him too panicked to keep going that way. Bubby kept his cool as best as he could, but he found himself feeling incredibly relieved by the time Harold called him.

“Hi, Harold.” Bubby greeted.

“Any sign of him?” Harold asked.

“No, not yet.” Bubby replied, squeezing his stress ball in his other hand. “Harold, can I ask what you two talked about on the flight?”

Harold paused for a long moment. “I’m...I’m sorry, Bubby. I don’t remember.”

Bubby hummed thoughtfully.

“Why? Do you think I upset him?” Harold asked, dismay clear in his tone.

“No, I doubt it.” Bubby answered casually. “I think maybe he just got too up in his own head.”

“...Perhaps you’re right.” Harold said with a sigh. “Well, we’ve finished eating. Darnold is taking Joshua back to the rental, Tommy and Benry are going to help look. Where are you, now?”

“Uhhh...” Bubby looked around for any sort of landmark. “I think I’m along the monorail route. Uhh, just a few streets...southeast of the Space Needle, I think.”

“Hmm. Alright. I’ll tell the others to try and head along other directions, in case he didn’t go that way.” Harold replied. “I’ll be keeping an eye out at the restaurant, in case he comes back looking for us—so if you want to find me, just head on back, and I’ll be here.”

“Okay. I’m going to keep looking.” Bubby said, squeezing his stress ball. “Talk to you soon.”

After hanging up, Bubby continued the search. They called each other every now and then, checking in on each other’s progress, to no avail for a while. Bubby was growing exhausted as it got later and later, heavily considering finding a place to sit down for a bit and rest as he approached a less wealthy-looking area of the city. The buildings were older, businesses a lot more homey-looking than the overpriced garbage of the more touristy area. Maybe he’d find a good place to take a break around here, he thought. He pushed forward a little more, eyeing an empty bench at what looked like a community park. As he approached it, he froze in his tracks, a significant amount of worry immediately washing away as he recognized Gordon laying down in the grass.

“Gordon!” He called loudly, approaching him with some newfound energy. “Gordon, what the fuck? We were all worried about you!”

Gordon sat up, looking dazed as he glanced around himself. “Huh?”

“If you need some time to yourself, that’s _fine,_ just let us know, next time.” Bubby huffed, pulling out his phone. He sat down heavily beside Gordon, dialing Harold’s number.

After a moment of hastily letting Harold know he’d found Gordon and approximately where they were so Darnold could pick them up, Bubby hung up, finally turning his attention fully to Gordon. “What happened?” Bubby asked.

“Uhhh...” Gordon brushed his hair out of his face, looking down at a slip of paper in his other hand. “I...I remembered shit.”

“...Like what?”

“About, like—about my past. My ‘backstory’ or whatever.”

Bubby’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh. What...sort of things did you remember?”

“Remember that guy, the first night we got back?” Gordon asked him.

“The one watching Joshua?”

“Yeah. _That’s_ Josh’s other dad.”

“...Oh, Gordon, you could do much better than that.”

Gordon laughed in surprise, giving Bubby a friendly push. “Shut up, man. Besides, it’s not like he was my boyfriend or anything. He just helped me out with Josh sometimes after he was born.”

“ _Sometimes?_ Do I have to go _have a word_ with him?”

Gordon laughed again. “I told you, we weren’t dating! Quit trying to roast my taste in men. We talked about it and everything, it’s not like he was trying to duck out or anything. He’s a good guy.”

Bubby crossed his arms doubtfully. “If you say so.”

“I guess everything else is sorta flooding back to me, too.” Gordon went on, looking meaningfully towards a street to their right. “I grew up in this area.”

“...How was it?”

Gordon shrugged. “It was alright. I guess my parents weren’t, like, _horrible_. The only close friend I really had growing up was Barnaby, though. Everyone else...I guess just sorta ignored me.”

Bubby nodded slowly, unsure what to say.

“...Sorry I disappeared on you guys.” Gordon said sheepishly. “I didn’t wanna worry you. I actually tried to call—but...uhhh... _did_ I call you guys?”

Bubby shook his head. “Not that I know of. I’m sure one of the others would have let me know if you did.”

Gordon furrowed his brow. “...Huh. I think...I remember Barnaby handing me his phone. Now I just got...” Gordon looked down at the paper in his hand again. “ _This._ ”

Bubby leaned over a bit to look at what was written on the paper. It was just a phone number, written in neat handwriting.

“I don’t even remember him leaving...?” Gordon said, looking around. “That’s...weird.”

Bubby hummed thoughtfully, flipping his phone open to look at the time impatiently. “We have some time before Darnold will get here, I think. Maybe we should get you something to eat, since you missed lunch.”

Gordon nodded, that dazed look quickly returning to his eyes as Bubby painstakingly stood. Gordon struggled just as much to stand; Bubby reached out to help him up, looking him over carefully.

“Gordon, you’re like, 40 years younger than me, you should _not_ have that much trouble standing up.” Bubby pointed out.

Gordon only shrugged.

Bubby and Gordon found an acceptable place to get him some food, Bubby grateful to be sitting down in a real chair. Gordon talked for a long time about his life before Black Mesa; his parents weren’t very present in his life, meaning he spent a lot of his time either on his own or with Barnaby. He had what he had called “too much” freedom as a kid—Bubby most certainly couldn’t relate to seeing that as a bad thing, but he nodded along, just letting Gordon talk it out. Finally, Darnold arrived, Harold already sat in the passenger seat and Joshua strapped into his carseat in the back. Harold hopped out of the car, wrapping Gordon up into a tight hug.

“Oh, Gordon, I was so worried!” He exclaimed.

“Y-yeah. Sorry about that.” Gordon replied, hugging Harold as best as he could with the way he was being held.

“Looks like you already ate, huh?” Darnold asked as they all climbed back into the car. “You don’t wanna pick anything up on the way back...?”

“Nah. I’m good. Thanks, though.” Gordon said, sitting down in the back seat and unstrapping Joshua from his car seat. He sat him down in his lap instead, hugging him tightly. “Sorry about that, Josh. Did I worry you?”

“No! I got ice cream.” Joshua replied with a smile.

Gordon laughed, kissing his forehead and helping him back into his car seat. “Oh, that’s good, I’m glad. What flavor did you get?”

Bubby sat back as Darnold started driving them back to the rental, listening to Gordon talk to Joshua. He’d always sounded so caring towards him before, but there was a new level of comfort radiating from him, now. It was nice to see—particularly after Bubby had, for some reason, gotten it into his head that something horrible was happening to Gordon.

Strangely, Bubby realized, that feeling didn’t necessarily go away. Bubby squeezed his stress ball some more, doing his best to stamp the feeling out. Gordon was clearly safe. There was no reason to be concerned, he reassured himself.

He still squeezed the stress ball all the way back to the rental.


	29. REPORT: Regarding subject "Benry"

As far as Benry was concerned, this was a pretty good trip. It had a bit of a rocky start; he’d really despised being left alone for so long, and he knew he was going to have to do that again once it was time to go home, but he was content to just enjoy the presence of his friends for now.

Gordon apparently had met up with his ex or whatever during that time he had run off; he seemed okay, all things considered, Benry thought. Sort of familiar, in an odd, existential sense? But there was no reason to think too hard about that. He—

“Bro, if you say there’s no reason to think about it, that just makes it suspicious.” Benry said into open air, as Gordon was getting done introducing Barnaby to the group.

>Dude!! Don't talk to me while you're with the others!! You promised you'd just let me do thing!

“It’s kinda hard to ignore you.” Benry pointed out.

“...Benry, who are you talking to?” Gordon asked.

>Don't tell him who I am, man, REALLY. He'd flip his shit if he knew I'm here.

“Don’t freak out, man, of course I won’t tell him who you are.” Benry said dismissively before turning back to Gordon. “I’m not talking to anyone, bro, what’re you talking about?”

>Wow. Tactful. Sneak 100. 10/10, really, Benry. Great job.

“Thanks.”

>Okay, for real, I could REALLY use your perspective here, so could you can it, please? This is actually really important. If you really wanna give me some fucking concrit, you don't have to say anything out loud. I can hear your thoughts, remember?

“Fiiine.” Benry groaned, stuffing his hands back into his pockets and turning his attention to Barnaby. “So you were like, married to Gordon, right? That’s cool.”

Both Gordon and Barnaby immediately looked away from each other, Barnaby stuffing his hands in his pockets and Gordon fiddling with his hair.

“We weren’t _married_ , dude, shut up.” Gordon said. “Barnaby’s married _now._ To someone else. Remember? I told you that already.”

Benry just shrugged.

“Well—uhh, it’s been really nice meeting all of you.” Barnaby said, scooping up Joshua in his arms. “My partner’s really excited to meet Josh, so I’m gonna get going.”

“Alright, dude. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for watching over him tonight, seriously.” Gordon said, wrapping one arm around him. Benry tried not to think about the contact too hard. “You excited to spend the night with Barnaby, Josh?”

“Yeah!” Joshua answered.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m really excited to spend some time with him again.” Barnaby said with a smile, then turned to the rest of the group. “Umm—have fun tonight.”

“Thank you, Barnaby!” Dr. Coomer replied, shaking Barnaby’s free hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you!”

Barnaby was finally on his way, closing the front door to their rental behind him.

“So are you gonna tell me yet why tonight’s so special?” Bubby asked Dr. Coomer as they headed back further into the house.

“Nope!” Dr. Coomer replied with a smile, stopping him to pull him in for a kiss. “It’s a surprise.”

“Fine. Let me go get my bag, then I’ll be ready to go.” Bubby huffed, heading back towards the room he and Dr. Coomer were sharing.

As soon as Bubby was out of sight, Dr. Coomer grinned, stamping his feet on the ground. “It’s _tonight!_ Oh, I’m so excited, I can hardly handle it.”

“What was that?” Bubby called suspiciously.

“Nothing, dear!” Dr. Coomer called back.

“I’m really excited for you.” Tommy said quietly, patting Dr. Coomer’s shoulder.

Gordon did the same, glancing back towards Bubby and Dr. Coomer’s room before whispering to him. “It’s gonna be great! Which song are you gonna do it for?”

“Dr. Feelgood, of course.” Dr. Coomer replied, voice _barely_ a whisper. “That was the song we shared our first kiss during!”

“That’s—that’s really sweet, but I’m also really sorry for your boyfriend’s, uhh, taste in music.” Tommy commented.

“Alright, you can stop whispering conspiratorially, I’m here.” Bubby announced as he returned with his purse slung over his shoulder.

The concert itself was okay. Benry didn’t quite share Bubby’s taste in music, but despite the noise levels that normally bothered him, he liked being mixed into a highly excitable crowd. Maybe he’d try going to concerts more often, he thought idly as he sang his approval to the band between songs.

  
  
  
  


Benry felt something. A gentle _snap_ in his head, like two pieces of a puzzle finally finding their places together. One Benry became another Benry, but not seamlessly. He looked around himself in surprise. Since when had they been at the concert? He wondered. Last he remembered, he was...

Well, he couldn’t exactly recall.

“Whuh...?” Benry muttered. “Yo, what happened?”

>Don't worry about it, dude, you'll catch up. And again, quit talking to me out loud.

“The music’s so loud, nobody can hear me.”

>Yeah, but--okay, whatever. Literally, you can see what's going on in front of you. You're at the concert Dr. Coomer was gonna propose to Bubby at.

“Aww. Nice.”

Benry looked to his side, noticing Gordon had a similar expression to when this happened to Tommy. Or Dr. Coomer, actually, though that was different, apparently. Gordon met Benry’s eye, furrowing his brow.

“What’s—what’s happening?” Gordon asked, having to yell over the music.

Benry shrugged. “Dunno. Figured _you_ would know. Lost your grip again, huh?”

Gordon’s expression didn’t change. He looked back up at the band, curling in on himself a little bit and clutching his chest. Benry caught Gordon’s attention by drumming his fingers on his arm, singing out a few orbs of sweet voice to ask if he was okay.

“B-Benry, I’m sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what that means.” Gordon practically wheezed.

“You good?” Benry asked over the music.

Gordon forced in a deep breath, then let it all out, easing himself back in his chair and nodding. “I’ll be okay.” He said, just barely loud enough for Benry to hear. “I’m...I think I’m starting to remember now.”

“Nice.” Benry replied, looking back up at the stage.

Eventually, the time came for the fated proposal. Bubby and Dr. Coomer were _not_ good singers, but Dr. Coomer sure had shelled out a lot of money to sing on stage with the band for the big moment, so they sang their hearts out. It was really sweet; Benry couldn’t help but sing sweet voice at them as they got into it. After the song ended, Dr. Coomer asked the question, Bubby predictably said yes, Dr. Coomer screamed about it—it was a good time. They all headed back to the rental after that, most of them cracking into celebratory alcohol, since Joshua was out with what’s-his-face.

>(Barnaby.)

“Yeah, whatever, that guy.” Benry muttered dismissively as he plopped down comfortably by Darnold. “Hey, Darnold. You do drinks, right? You should mix, uhhh, potion of fuck me up, please.”

“Huh? I don’t drink, I wouldn’t know where to start.” Darnold replied, pointedly picking up a glass of juice he’d poured for himself.

“You’re drinking right now, bro.”

Gordon laughed on the other end of the room, carrying in a beer for himself. “He means _alcohol_ , Benry.”

Benry smiled as he glanced at Gordon before he picked up an empty cup, holding it out towards Darnold. “C’mon, just put shit in my cup and I’ll tell you if it’s good.”

Darnold shrugged, setting his juice aside and picking up a random assortment of the bottles they’d pulled out. Tommy snorted at his choices, putting a hand to his mouth as Benry waited patiently for Darnold to randomly mix things together.

“Alright, here you go, I guess. My first venture into alcoholic beverages.” Darnold announced, holding the cup back out to Benry. “Lemme know how it tastes.”

Benry just knocked it back, barely tasting it at all, but it sure was alcoholic, at least. He let out a loud breath, slamming the cup down on the coffee table in front of him.

“Good shit, bro. Thank you.” He told him.

“Benry, holy shit, that was chocolate liquor, bourbon, and lime juice!” Tommy exclaimed, but if Benry was reading him right, he seemed thrilled by that combination.

“Yeah, dude, you want some?” Benry offered.

Tommy laughed. “No! That’s gross. Have him—make him something else gross, Darnold.”

“Oh my god, _please_ don’t kill Benry tonight.” Gordon pleaded.

Heedless of Gordon’s request, Darnold made more drinks for Benry, much to everyone else’s excitement. Benry didn’t see the huge deal with what he was given, but hey, he wasn’t going to complain, if everyone else was having a good time. The fun ran out pretty quick, though; with how strong Darnold made each drink, he felt the effects fast, and ended up lounging across Tommy and Darnold’s laps feeling sick as everyone else enjoyed themselves at a more leisurely pace.

“What do you think you guys wanna do for your wedding?” Gordon asked Bubby and Dr. Coomer.

The two were curled up against each other on another couch—Bubby much less withdrawn about it than usual, Benry noted—as they exchanged a glance.

“We’ve sort of talked about getting married already, but we haven’t made any hard-set plans.” Dr. Coomer replied with a shrug.

“We only really know you guys. It doesn’t have to be fancy, if it’s only going to be us.” Bubby added, leaning his head against Dr. Coomer’s shoulder.

Benry yawned, rolling clumsily off the couch face-first onto the floor.

“You okay, Benry?” Tommy asked with a small laugh.

“Yup.” Benry replied, dragging himself to his feet. “Gonna go outside for a few. BRB.”

Benry headed to the back door, making sure to pat Sunkist on the head along the way before stepping outside and closing the door behind him. Already, he sorely missed the sounds of his friends, but he sat down on the small slab of concrete anyway, leaning his back against the door.

“Sorry about what I did in the game, by the way.” Benry said, picking at pebbles on the ground sheepishly.

>What? You're talking to me?

“Yeah, man.”

>Bro, you don't need to apologize to me.

“I apologized to Gordon.”

>Yeah! You did. And it seems like things are smoothing over. So like...I mean, seems like you're doing good on that front.

“Well, but you’re not Gordon, right? I should apologize to you, too. I think.”

>I don't actually care, though, it's fine.

“...You seemed so mad at me in the game, though.”

>Well--yeah, you were kinda making things difficult, but I mean, you didn't actually hurt me or anything. It was just a game.

Benry opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Some complicated feelings began brewing up in him, though—he’d been the one attacking, sure, so maybe he _should_ take the opportunity to just move past it, if the player didn’t care. But there was something left unsaid; something he generally didn’t care to unpack—the genuine fear of being left by the player. Yes, he’d been a convenient pick to be the final boss, but it was made all the more easy to slide into that role when he genuinely had a motivation to attack.

It wasn’t something he had actually thought about after the game; in fact, the player’s reaction had a strange effect on him, as if those few words finally unlocked a part of him that was capable of recognizing it. Perhaps the Benry who attacked wasn’t the one who normally talked to everyone after the game. He didn’t expect his friends to understand that, the way Benry shifted from one version of himself to another; but here was that Benry now, who had attacked his friends of his own accord, swapped out into consciousness and control of his body. The one who had simply been given the tools to do so, his own little gameplay mechanics to add to the challenge. He hadn’t wanted anyone to get genuinely hurt, of course; it was a game, so it had been fine, in his head. But this Benry had decided the best way to keep the player around, keep him from shutting the game down for good, was to engage him in a fight he couldn’t win. He’d keep restarting. Over and over, and Benry would keep victory just out of his reach—at least, he’d intended it that way. The Science Team turned out to be stronger and more capable than him, even with his powers; and now, there they were. Everyone suffering trauma from Benry’s misguided actions to try and save them from obsolescence.

And the player had brushed it off like it was nothing. Like it didn’t even matter in the first place.

Of course it had just been a game. That was the reason for Benry’s whole motivation—but to hear those words from the player, so dismissive, not even _acknowledging_ that the game had been his entire life, was making his stomach twist into knots. He was sitting out there, somewhere entirely different, with the fortune of being so removed from what had _made_ Benry, he could just shrug off something that had pushed him into hurting his closest friends.

>...I'm sorry, Benry. I didn't mean it like that.

Benry shrugged. “It’s whatever.”

>I didn't want to dismiss everything you've been through. I just meant that it didn't affect me the way it affected Gordon.

“It’s fine, man, I don’t wanna talk about it.” Benry grumbled.

> :(

“So, like, you in the real world, or what?”

>...You should really, REALLY ignore me. Go back inside and chill with everyone else.

“Nah.”

>Dude! You just went on a whole monologue about how fucked up it is that we're not on the same wavelength, and it was totally fair. I get it! Why do you care? It's not like I'm the Gordon you know. I'm just some guy you don't really actually know.

“Yeah, but you know _me._ I wanna know you, too. We’re buds, right?”

Benry's voice was tense as he said that, though, sort of desperate. Complex feelings aside, regardless of the state of the world they were in now, it still seemed like the player was vital to how they lived. Without him, they’d have nothing— _be_ nothing; as the only one who seemed to be capable of contact with the player, perhaps the responsibility of keeping him around still fell to him. Everyone else had been so eager to let him move on, after all—they were willing to let themselves die off, just because, what? That’s how video games work? Video game characters aren’t supposed to be alive, either. While Benry certainly regretted his actions, the fact remained the same: he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let the player get bored, and he couldn’t let the player leave. So, for all intents and purposes, yes, Benry wanted to be his friend.

>...

“Bro?”

>I...I'm sorry. Really. I don't know what to say to all that. Of course I'm not just gonna get up and leave, though! Like, I don't know if it's really a great idea for us to be referred to as "friends", but...I do care about you all enough to make sure you get to keep on living. I'm not gonna get bored and just go, I promise! This is just, like...not how I was expecting things to go. You're not supposed to know I'm here. I feel like things are kinda getting fucked up beyond belief right now.

“It can’t be _that_ bad that I can hear you.”

>Well, I guess that on its own wouldn't be too bad. But...well, there's some shit you wouldn't really get, is all.

“Things seem pretty fine to me. Except for all the skips.”

>Yeah, the skips are pretty bad. That's all part of it. Honestly, I'm sorta wondering if...I'm gonna have to go back.

“Go back?”

>...

Benry remained silent, listening for an answer, but never got one.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t try to pull that shit, just tell me.”

>Ugh. It's not for you to worry about. Really, you should head back inside. Everyone else is having a good time. You don't wanna miss out on that, right?

Benry shrugged.

>Hey, don't tell me you're getting self-conscious NOW.

“What? No.”

Benry curled in on himself a little bit, though, pulling his hat down by the flaps and letting out a small sigh. Truth be told, he _was_ feeling self-conscious. They were moving on with their lives, running businesses, getting married, repairing things with old exes and raising a kid, and what did Benry have to show for his time after the game? Was this all the telling signs of them _truly_ moving on, forgetting about him? Before, he knew on some level, he was at least on their minds. Even if it was because they were mad, at least he wasn’t forgotten. Now, they were sitting there inside, laughing and having a good time—as if Benry hadn’t been there at all.

“Dude, stop looking in my head.” Benry hissed.

>Sorry. I actually can't help it.

Benry huffed, pulling his hood over his hat and pulling on the strings to close it over his face.

>...Listen, dude, they're not gonna forget about you. They're moving on because they're, like, their own people. A friendship doesn't have to mean they spend 100% of their time with you. Plus, all that shit about like, "at least they're thinking about you" even if they're mad isn't healthy.

Benry groaned, flopping down on his side.

>Also, like, they're having fun inside because they're respecting your boundaries. If you're feeling bad and need the presence of someone else, you just have to ask. You know? They can't read your mind.

“ _You_ can read my mind.”

>Yeah, but that's not a good thing! I'm not like, the ideal candidate for a friend. You need someone on your level. THEY'RE on your level. Just go hang out! It'll be fine.

“Don’t wanna.”

>Come on! Just imagine I'm there, physically, dragging you back inside to talk to your friends. Go on.

“Nooooo.”

>You shouldn't let yourself get caught up in this, Benry. Trust me, I know this hurts right now, but you'll be okay if you learn to listen to what's going on in your own head and act accordingly. Like, REALLY listen--feel how your body's feeling, untangle your thought processes, really dig deep and consider what you're feeling and why, and how you can make the situation better. If you're lonely, it's simple: go in and talk to your friends.

Benry didn’t reply.

>...Okay, here, listen. I've got something guaranteed to help you feel better.

“What?”

>Go drink some water.

“Dude, you’re trying to trick me, shut up.”

>Trick you into drinking water?! No, I'm serious. You're drunk, you're miserable, go drink some water. Make sure it's _really_ cold. That always helps me when I'm feeling out of it. And like, you should really eat something, too, actually. Just, y'know, if you're not ready to hang out WITH them, hang out AROUND them. Sit in the kitchen, take care of yourself, ease your way back in.

Benry opened his mouth to make some snide comment, but paused as he noticed someone standing in the backyard. It was too dark to really see them; the dark silhouette cut sharp lines into the space in front of him, a form Benry knew on some level should have been familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

>Dude!! Holy fuck that's G-Man!!! Kick his ass!!!!

“Huh?”

>I swear to god if you don't kick his ass for me right now I'm gonna lose it. Kick his ass!!!!

“Okay, hold on.” Benry stumbled to his feet, swaying a little bit as he stood. “Okay, Gary man, I’m gonna kick your ass now. ‘Cuz Gordon said so.”

G-Man chuckled and moved in closer, his eyes glinting in the light as he stepped out of the shadows. “Getting, crafty now, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” Benry asked, shaking his arms out to prepare himself for a fight.

“I was talking to...the player.” G-Man replied coldly.

>Ugh. I don't even get to say anything cool back at him. He can't hear me. :(

“I’ll tell him what you wanna say.” Benry offered.

>Really? Okay. Ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing.

“What...fuck...you’re doing?” Benry questioned.

>Dude.

“Normally, I would...love, to stick around and chat...but...” G-Man adjusted his tie, taking another step closer to Benry. Benry felt that slight pressure change around him, just like whenever Tommy stopped time. “I am, on a tight schedule. Let’s get going, shall we?”

>Ohhh no no no. Benry, come on, get his ass!!!

Benry hooked his fingers into claws, feeling a spark inside him as he began to shift. G-Man took a startled step back as Benry’s form became incomprehensible, clipping at odd angles through the house and the ground. He prepared to unleash an attack, electric orbs he had inherited from the Nihilanth,

stopping as an overwhelming noise pierced his ears.

Benry fell out of his powerful form, falling to the ground hard as his usual, humanoid self. 

Benry tried to pick himself up, but his arms began to press into the concrete below him, making it impossible to stand. 

Benry’s head dipped into the ground, revealing a void beneath it. 

In the center of the void, at the center of everything, Benry saw Gordon.

>C'mon, come towards me! I'll hold onto you until it's safe.

Benry began to drag himself further into the void, reaching out towards not-Gordon. This time, he reached back with incorporeal hands, just barely out of reach.

>Come closer! I almost got you!

Benry felt a tug on his hood.

>BENRY!!!

It choked him as he was wrenched out of one void and into another, a tunnel of white dots zipping past him as he was thrown heavily to the ground. The sound was gone now, at least, allowing Benry to finally get his head together. Except, of course, he was still drunk, making it difficult in an entirely different way to get his bearings.

“Benry, too?” Tommy’s voice asked somewhere around him.

Benry found him, wearing his Minion pajama shirt and standing next to...Gordon? Benry tilted his head. He looked different, younger, with shorter hair as he curled up on the not-floor, not making eye contact with anyone around him.

“You will, understand, soon enough...why I am doing this, Tommy.” G-Man said, stepping towards an outline of a doorway, leaving Benry, Tommy, and Gordon(?) behind. “After all, he only has three left.”

****

Benry opened his eyes.

He had something in his mouth. He chewed it slowly, determining whatever it was, he liked it. He looked down into his hand, finding the tiniest little cake he’d ever seen in his life. This one was unscathed—he must’ve been finishing one off already and reached for another, before he woke up here.

“Benry, quit it!” Gordon snapped, carefully taking the little cake out of his hand. “You can eat those _later._ Put it back.”

Benry looked Gordon over as he slowly placed the little cake back onto a shiny, silver tray. He was wearing a _very_ nice looking suit, with his hair pulled back in some intricate braid/bun combo. Benry’s face flushed a little bit as he took a step back, moving to stuff his hands into his hoodie pocket, only to find with a start that he was also wearing something different—just a slightly flowy dress shirt and a long, loose skirt, but at least the skirt had pockets. He stuffed his hands into those instead, looking around himself to get his bearings again.

“Where are we?” Benry asked. It was some big room, with exactly five chairs set out in front of a little rolling stage. He spotted Tommy on the stage, stringing up some flowers on some sort of wire arch in the center of the little stage.

“We’re getting Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s wedding set up.” Gordon replied casually, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You alright? It happening again?”

Benry shrugged. “Don’t remember.”

Gordon nodded knowingly, reaching to another table and pouring a cup of water to hand him. “Here. You wanna sit down?”

“Bro, you’re always trying to get me to drink water, what’s with you?” Benry questioned, ignoring the cup and heading to the little stage.

“What? This is literally the first time I’ve handed you water in, like, months!” Gordon called after him.

Benry sang at Tommy in greeting, sitting down on the edge of the stage. Tommy sang back this time before returning to his work.

“You feel...weird?” Benry asked him.

Tommy glanced down at Benry curiously. “No? Umm, I can’t—I’m a little busy right now, Benry. Sorry.”

Benry just shrugged again, getting up off the stage and searching around for someone else. He knew Tommy hated being interrupted when he was focused. He caught sight of Dr. Coomer shuffling around in some other, slightly more closed-off part of the room, so he headed over that way.

>Hey, Benry, hold up. Before you go over there, can I ask you something? What's it like in G-Man's void? You're like, there AND here. It doesn't seem like anyone else really realizes that, but you're more self-aware than the rest of them. Can you feel your other self in the void at all?

Benry kept walking, hopping up unsteadily on an unused cart. Dr. Coomer smiled at him as he stopped pacing, opting instead to bounce on his heels.

>Benry?

“Oh, I’m so excited!” Dr. Coomer exclaimed. “But—ohhh, I’m so nervous, too. How does everything look out there, Benry?”

“Looks cute.”

>Can you not hear me, anymore, Benry? Or are you just fucking with me?

>God. This is getting REALLY bad. I don't know what the fuck G-Man's doing, but if he gets all of them before the wedding...I don't know what that'll entail, actually? At the very least, I think Bubby has immunity for now, because in what I have of Bubby and Coomer's backstory, he never mentioned G-Man from his perspective like this. So...I think he'll be safe. But then again, I can't switch to him now, because all this has already happened from his eyes, so...

>...Maybe I SHOULD go back. Start fresh. Try and nudge them into kicking G-Man's ass ASAP so they can stay safe. But then again, we're already so far along...I wouldn't want to do that to them.

>I'd better switch to someone else so G-Man can't skip anything. Who do I even have left? Dr. Coomer, Bubby, and Darnold? But actually, kind of just Dr. Coomer and Darnold, since I can't use Bubby here anyway? Shit. If I can just hold onto at least one of them..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up: if you haven't played/watched half life 2 AND half life: alyx yet but wanted to remain spoiler free, there's about to be spoilers in the update after next--so we have 3 more chapters to go before that starts hitting!


	30. REPORT: Regarding B.Coomer and H.Coomer's wedding

Harold paced back and forth in his little secluded corner of the venue they’d chosen for their wedding, stomach churning with a deep mixture of excitement and anxiety. He was already dressed up, just waiting for the others to finish preparations, now. Then they’d get started, and he’d see Bubby again, dressed up nicely in the outfit they’d picked out for him. He was beyond excited to see him wearing it, he was beyond excited to marry him and spend the rest of his life with him—but among all that, he was terrified. They had been safe throughout this entire year they’d spent outside of Black Mesa, but some part of him expected something horrible to happen before they could even say their vows.

Benry had come to start talking to him as all these thoughts were running wild in his head, easing his nerves a little bit now that he had a friend by his side to ground him. Benry looked sort of dazed and confused, but that wasn’t abnormal for him; he listened intently to Harold ramble, anyway.

“...How does Bubby look?” Harold asked, peering out into the larger area of the room.

Benry only shrugged. “Haven’t seen him.”

“Ohhh, I _do_ hope he hasn’t...been having second thoughts.” Harold murmured, going back to pacing.

“Why would he?”

Harold sighed, twirling his hair in his fingers. “What if he’s decided he’s better off without me? I’ve been such a burden on him, especially as of late.”

“You don’t seem like that to me.” Benry said casually, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Harold smiled kindly at Benry. “That’s very sweet, Benry. I appreciate the thought very much. But...oh, it’s difficult to explain.”

“Is it that...forgetting thing?” Benry asked.

Harold stared at Benry in surprise. “Well...perhaps that’s part of it.” He replied self-consciously.

“Apparently, we have something in common with that.” Benry said, looking down at his lap.

“...Do we?”

“Iunno. So, you just like, kinda disappear for a bit, except not really?” Benry asked.

Harold leaned back against the wall behind him. “...Sort of. Sometimes I can remember bits and pieces, but...after a while, I’ll just realize I’m somewhere else. It’s not even necessarily like...a hard slice out of my memories, if that makes sense? It’s—...oh, it’s _so_ difficult to explain.”

Benry nodded. “Yeah. I dunno how to say it either, but me too. It’s weird, right?”

“...It is.” Harold murmured, fiddling with his tie in his hands. “Bubby always tells me I act sort of differently than I normally do when it happens.”

“Well, I don’t think he’s like, gonna divorce you over it.” Benry pointed out. “I mean...I kinda do that too, and you guys all haven’t ditched me, right? Plus, you guys’re like, pretty much _already_ married. I think he likes you as you are. Doesn’t matter if you, like, forget shit or act different. You’re still you. And you’re pretty cool, so...y’know.”

Harold smiled, already feeling tears forming in his eyes. He quickly brushed them away before pulling Benry into a hug. Benry sighed in contentment, hugging Harold back and kissing the top of his head.

“You’re very sweet to say that. Thank you.” Harold said before pulling away. “...I know we had sort of a rough patch, regarding the game and everything, but...I really do value you as a friend, Benry.”

Benry smiled, kicking his feet a little on the cart. “Thanks, Dr. Coomer. I like you, too. Congrats on getting married.”

Harold chuckled. “All of you are still calling me Dr. Coomer! It’s been a year since we left Black Mesa. You can call me Harold.”

Benry nodded. “Okay, Harold.”

“Hey, Dr. Coomer!” Gordon greeted as he approached. “We’re almost ready to start. You ready to go?”

Harold felt a surge of excitement, unable to control himself before giving Gordon a friendly punch. “I’m most certainly ready, Gordon!”

“Oof!” Gordon rubbed where Harold had punched him, smiling back at him. “Nice! How are you feeling?”

“I’m so excited!” Harold replied, wrapping Gordon up into a hug. “Thank you very much for all the organization you’ve done! You’re the greatest best man I could possibly ask for.”

“Yeah—of course.” Gordon grunted. “Uhh, Dr. Coomer, that’s too tight.”

Harold released him, opting instead to punch him again. Gordon laughed, punching him back in the shoulder much gentler.

“I know you’re excited, but you don’t gotta beat me up over it.” Gordon said. “I was just checking in really quick to see if you’re ready. I’m gonna go check on Bubby now, and I’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“Okay, Gordon! I love you!” Harold called after him as he walked away.

“Love you too!” Gordon called back.

Tommy was quick to approach after Gordon left, holding an assortment of leftover flowers in his hands. He held a couple up to Harold’s suit, then picked one, carefully slipping it into Harold’s hair.

“Awww, thank you, Tommy.” Harold said, pulling Tommy into a hug. He always enjoyed hugging Tommy—he was so much sturdier than his other friends, able to withstand the powerful hugs he always wanted to give.

“I’m really happy for you guys!” Tommy said as he hugged Harold back. “I’m also—I never got to go to a wedding before! This is nice.”

“This wedding couldn’t be more perfect, as long as you all are here.” Harold said as he released Tommy. “Thank you for being here. It means quite a lot that someone who...was there for our experiences in Black Mesa gets to see us get married, actually.”

Tommy grinned. “Of course! I wouldn’t ever miss your wedding, Dr. Coomer.”

Harold watched Gordon step around the corner, nodding to Harold before rushing off to the altar. Harold instinctively patted his pockets, heart stopping when he realized he didn’t have his vows.

“Oh, shoot!” Harold said. “Gordon, just a second, I forgot my vows in the car. I’ll be right back.”

Harold jogged outside, hastily unlocking his and Bubby’s car to search for his speech. He’d left it in the divider between the driver and passenger seats, the last he remembered; oddly, though, he didn’t find it there. He searched the car hastily, anxiety surging in his chest when he didn’t see it anywhere.

“Dammit.” Harold cursed to himself before climbing back out of the car. Well, he was just going to have to wing it, he thought with a disappointed sigh.

“Looking...for this?”

Harold turned around, finding a familiar man stood behind him, holding a briefcase.

“Oh! Hello, Mr. Coolatta.” Harold greeted politely. “It’s quite a surprise to see you here.”

As promised, Mr. Coolatta pulled out a familiar folded page from his breast pocket, holding it out to Harold—just barely out of his reach.

“Oh, thank you! I must have dropped it.” Harold said. “...Would you like to come inside? Bubby and I are getting married, you see—we could always pull up an extra chair for you!”

“That...won’t be, necessary, Harold Coomer.” Mr. Coolatta responded, still holding out his speech. “Here, you will need this.”

Harold nodded, stepping closer and reaching out for the paper. Harold paused, breath hitching in his throat in surprise as he felt a pressure closing in around him, everything just _fading away,_ except for Mr. Coolatta. Harold gripped his speech in his hands, looking around as his heart began to race.

“Um—Mr. Coolatta, what’s happening?” Harold asked, looking towards him. Behind him, Harold found...Gordon? He had a finger to his lips, indicating for Harold to keep silent, so he turned his attention back to Mr. Coolatta, doing his best to ignore him.

“Not to worry, Harold Coomer.” Mr. Coolatta said as Gordon shifted his stance a little, clearly getting ready to tackle him. “This is...only temporary. You will, be released, soon enough.”

Mr. Coolatta turned suddenly, two figures of him splitting apart from each other as Gordon lunged. Gordon barreled through the first one, and it exploded into dust as the other one simply faded into the darkness. Gordon hit the ground hard, immediately scrambling to his feet and looking around wildly.

“Where are you?!” Gordon shouted. “Take me back home! I wanna see my son!”

“Why, Dr. Freeman, I thought you would...understand, by now.” Mr. Coolatta’s voice echoed in the void. “You’re, already with your son. Haven’t you seen?”

“I don’t get it! That’s like—some _future_ version of me, not _me!_ ” Gordon called out. Harold instinctively put a comforting hand on Gordon’s shoulder, only for him to pull away defensively, looking Dr. Coomer over like he’d never seen him before in his life.

“Mr. Coolatta! Please take us home, I was about to get married!” Harold added. “Bubby’s waiting for me!”

“Yeah, man, let us—uhhh, let us outta this shit.” Benry slurred behind him.

Harold turned, eyes widening at the sight of Benry and Tommy. Benry was lying on his side on the ground, right beside Tommy, who stared past Harold with so much more hatred and venom in his eyes than Harold had ever seen from him in his life. His eyes glowed brightly in the void, hands gripping the hem of his pajama shirt tightly.

“Have patience, all of you.” Mr. Coolatta said, materializing in front of a sharp doorway of light. He adjusted his tie and turned, disappearing into the light. “All will make sense...soon enough.”

****

>Holy fuck!!! Oh my fucking god!!!!

>No way. Noooo fucking way. You'd do this TODAY, G-Man? On the day of my best friends' wedding??

>Fuck. Goddammit. Okay, I can do this. I've still got Darnold and Bubby. It's gonna be okay. I can figure this out. I'm gonna cut it off with Dr. Coomer right here, go to Darnold before any more skipping can happen. Let's go._

Darnold stood behind the podium, tapping his fingers against it nervously as Harold returned with his speech, looking incredibly dazed. At the sight of Bubby, though, he immediately grinned, pocketing the page and sprinting to the altar. He already had Bubby in a headlock and everything; Darnold glanced down at his cards, getting the feeling this was about to escalate very quickly before he got a word in edgewise.

“Hold on, you guys, you’re supposed to let me say a bunch of stuff first!” He interrupted urgently.

Dr. Coomer settled down, taking Bubby’s hands in his own. The wedding itself went pretty well—Darnold gave his speech, Dr. Coomer and Bubby were too emotional to give their own—it was sweet. They were so loving towards each other in their own, unique ways; Darnold had to resist getting emotional about it himself.

Maybe it was all the talk about romance, plus the times Dr. Coomer had tried to nudge Darnold into saying something to Tommy, but as they moved on to the reception, he couldn’t help but sidle up close to Tommy, heart racing as he looked at him. He looked _really_ nice in his suit, he thought as he swallowed hard and looked down at his hands, palms sweating.

“It’s really sweet.” Darnold commented with an earnest smile. “They’re really cute together.”

Right at that moment, Bubby got his skirt caught on one of the tables, stumbling and sort of dragging the table with him. He huffed and turned to look at it, immediately putting his fingers to his temple and setting the table on fire—which, of course, only ended up with _him_ on fire. It didn’t seem to bother him at all, but Gordon was quick to throw a bucket of ice they’d been using to chill some wine over the table, clearly trying to drench the fire on Bubby and missing in his panic. Dr. Coomer tossed one of the spare tablecloths over Bubby’s head calmly to suffocate the fire, then immediately scooped him up, still wrapped up in the tablecloth, laughing as Bubby struggled to get himself out.

“Yeah. They are.” Tommy replied with a fond smile.

After the panic of the fire died down, Gordon let out a deep, relieved sigh, then turned to the little stereo set up on another nearby, undamaged table. He got the music started, an excited smile immediately spreading on Tommy’s face. He started to leave Darnold’s side to join the others to dance, Darnold intent to stay behind as he thought about what his next move should be. Tommy quickly turned before he was out of reach, though, taking Darnold by the wrist.

“C’mon!” Tommy urged.

Darnold’s face flushed as he let Tommy drag him to the loose dance circle. Tommy turned back to Darnold, sliding his hand down from Darnold’s wrist to hold his hand and quickly taking the other. Darnold bit the inside of his cheek nervously, staring down at his hands held so gingerly in Tommy’s. His hands were sort of cold, he noticed, with _really_ smooth skin. Tommy asked him something that he couldn’t quite process in the moment.

“H-huh?” Darnold asked.

“I asked if you dance much.” Tommy repeated.

“Uhhh—s-sort of?” Darnold answered as Tommy started bouncing in time to the song, still holding Darnold’s hands. “Not like this.”

Tommy started leading him into a dance expertly. Darnold stumbled along, struggling to keep up; once he sort of had an idea of the steps, though, he had an easier time keeping up, earning a smile from Tommy.

“You’re getting it!” Tommy praised. “It’s—this one’s pretty easy. I always liked it.”

“Did you, like, take dance lessons or something?” Darnold asked.

“For a little while, when I was in high school.” Tommy replied. “I didn’t like doing it, uhh, in—in a classroom setting, but it’s fun with friends.”

“You’re really good!” Darnold complimented as Tommy spun him. Darnold laughed as he was drawn back in, falling back into step with him only sort of clumsily.

“Thanks!”

Darnold was left sort of breathless by the time the song ended, still holding onto Tommy’s hands. Tommy smiled down at him, apparently not winded at all.

“Do you wanna take a break?” Tommy asked.

“Uhh—maybe.” Darnold admitted, looking down at their hands.

Tommy reluctantly pulled away, allowing Darnold to move away and sit down. Tommy called Sunkist over, dancing with her instead—which started out as him holding onto her front paws and bouncing back and forth, but then turned into Tommy dancing fairly uncoordinated on his own, with Sunkist prancing in circles around him. Darnold watched him with a fluttering in his chest, only barely noticing Benry as he sat down beside him.

“You tell him you like him yet?” Benry asked suddenly.

Darnold jumped in surprise, finally looking at Benry. He had the entire bowl of vodka-soaked pineapple slices in his lap, eating them completely on his own. Darnold sighed, stealing one from the bowl to try. He wrinkled his nose at the taste, immediately handing the rest of the slice back to Benry.

“I’m hoping maybe tonight.” Darnold replied quietly.

“Well, he likes you too, you should just do it.” Benry commented, stuffing the slice into his mouth.

Darnold’s face flushed as he looked at Tommy. “Wh—what? Did he tell you that?”

“No, but like, y’know. I can see it.”

Darnold took in a deep breath as a slow song began to play. “Okay. Okay. I’m gonna—I’m gonna do it, then.”

Benry sang sweet voice at him, an assortment of colors that Darnold was pretty sure were supposed to be encouraging. When Darnold found himself frozen in his seat, Benry pushed him off, nudging him towards Tommy. Tommy was already looking at Darnold with a smile, waiting patiently for him to approach. Darnold cleared his throat, glancing at Bubby and Dr. Coomer—already dancing in each other’s arms, like the rest of the world didn’t even register, anymore. Benry was already moving on, leaning against one of the tables and talking to Gordon as Gordon danced lazily with Joshua in his arms. He didn’t have the pressure of prying eyes on him, at least, Darnold thought with some relief as he closed the distance between himself and Tommy.

“Uhh—wanna dance?” Darnold asked nervously.

Tommy nodded, looking completely comfortable as he wrapped one arm around Darnold and took his hand with the other. Darnold cleared his throat nervously again as they started dancing. His voice was stuck in his throat as he tried desperately to get his words in order. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been rehearsing the moment he told him about his feelings in his head for months, now, but as he looked up at Tommy, he felt like a deer in the headlights—like he was just falling in love with him all over again.

Before Darnold knew it, he’d wasted the whole song worrying about word choice, and Tommy pulled away. Darnold silently kicked himself as he sat back down, trying not to let his disappointment show through on his face as Tommy walked off to talk to Dr. Coomer and Bubby. Letting out a quiet sigh, he looked down at his hands, wondering if tonight really was the night to tell Tommy about his feelings.

Eventually, Dr. Coomer and Bubby were already heading off to celebrate their marriage on their own, leaving the duty of cleaning up to the rest of the group. Tommy put in his CD of choice to listen to as they wrapped things up, Darnold lost in his own thoughts as he worked. Once everything was all cleaned up and taken care of, the group sat down in a circle on the floor for a little bit, munching on the last of the food they hadn’t quite eaten, yet.

“I think that went super well!” Gordon commented between bites of a little mini sandwich. “You have fun, Josh?”

“Mm-hmm.” Josh muttered, leaning sleepily against Gordon.

“Too bad most of us couldn’t _really_ be here.” Benry commented through a mouthful of a tiny cake.

The group looked curiously at Benry.

“What?” Gordon asked.

“Huh?”

“What do you mean, couldn’t _‘really’_ be here?”

Benry shrugged.

>...So...he DOES know??

>Fuck, man. Looks like time's running out before this whole wedding sequence is over...

>I wonder what G-Man's gonna pull when it ends. I hope it's not too bad._

Darnold blushed as Tommy took his wrist again, standing up and helping him to his feet as well before stretching.

“I wanna go home.” Tommy announced. “See you guys later.”

The others stood as well, Gordon collecting the aftermath of their last-minute snacks to throw away. “Yeah, better get Josh to bed. See y’all later. I love you guys.”

“I love you too.” Tommy replied.

Gordon smiled as Darnold turned to follow Tommy back out to their car, Sunkist in tow. Darnold sat in the driver’s seat with a heavy sigh, waiting for Tommy and Sunkist to be ready before heading back towards home.

“Hey, Darnold?”

Darnold cast Tommy a glance. He was staring out his own window, head rested in his hand. “Yeah?”

“Did you...ever have friends, before us?”

Darnold paused, biting his lip. “Uhh...yeah. Kinda. Why?”

Tommy shrugged. “It was just—I was thinking about how, uhh, Gordon has Barnaby. I didn’t...actually really have... _distinct_ friends before you guys. Y’know what I mean?”

Darnold nodded. “Yeah. I had this one friend, for like...10, 15 years? They helped me get into Black Mesa and everything, but, like...I don’t know. I haven’t even _thought_ about them in forever. I spent a while just convinced I was sort of, like, a reclusive asshole, you know? I didn’t know anything about them, and I thought after a while that was just because I clearly wasn’t interested enough to learn about them. But...meeting you guys has sorta given me reference to think that something was kinda off about that.”

“Yeah! Right?” Tommy exclaimed. “It’s so weird, I’ve been—uhh, I’ve been thinking about it. Like, I had...the _idea_ of friends. But before Sunkist and everyone else, I didn’t actually really _know_ anyone. I was—uhh, I was just, like, sort of...I was talking to people, but...”

“They never talked about themselves?” Darnold filled in.

“Yeah!”

“Yeah, it’s sort of weird, but like...” Darnold cleared his throat nervously. “Before the resonance cascade, I remember you used to take the same tram as me sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And I got _really_ into people watching when I joined Black Mesa.” Darnold went on. “And I was actually really interested to hear you talking about the Nihilanth project and other stuff, before I started talking to one of the Coomer clones. Like, all that time, and that was the first time I actually heard people, just...talking about their lives, in a way I’d never experienced before. You know?”

Tommy laughed. “That’s so weird. You should’ve—uhh, you should’ve come and talked to me.”

“No, no, I was too shy.” Darnold chuckled.

“It’s...hmmm.” Tommy hummed thoughtfully, drumming his fingers as he paused to think over his words. “I guess on one hand, that’s sorta freaky? Like, I know that _logically,_ that’s—uhh, that that’s super weird. But...I guess...I’m so used to you guys being my whole, uhhh, my whole world now, that it just...makes sense. We were always meant to be friends.”

Darnold glanced at Tommy. He was staring right back at him, golden eyes glowing brightly back at him.

“Yeah. Always friends.” Darnold echoed quietly.

Darnold pulled into their driveway, yawning as he unbuckled his seatbelt. As he was about to climb out of the car, Tommy took Darnold’s wrist again. Darnold stopped, sitting back in his seat and looking at Tommy. Tommy didn’t say anything at first, just staring at him for a long moment. The scrutiny made heat rush to Darnold’s face, waiting for Tommy to say something.

“...Darnold?” Tommy started.

Darnold started to get a strange feeling in his stomach. Anxiety? He wondered. It sort of seemed like Tommy was about to say something important—maybe he was confessing his own feelings, he couldn’t help but hope—but he could tell _anxiety_ wasn’t the feeling that was starting to overpower him as Tommy sorted out his words in his head. There was something else going on. Darnold slipped his hand free from Tommy’s, only just enough so he could hold his hand properly in his own.

“Do you feel that?” Tommy asked suddenly, his brow furrowing.

“...I do.”

Tommy looked out the windshield, up towards the sky. “It’s...really dark outside.”

Darnold blinked. When his eyes were open again, he furrowed his brow and blinked again, as if that would make sense of what was happening in front of him. There was no strangely cool feeling in his hand, anymore—Tommy’s hand was gone.

 _Tommy_ was gone.

“T-...” Darnold started, then stopped. He looked around himself, hoping maybe Tommy had just stopped time to move somewhere else, but he was nowhere to be seen.

He clambered out of the car, anxiety threatening to crush him, now as he searched the neighborhood. No matter where he looked, he couldn’t see him—and no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, he _knew_ something was wrong.

“Tommy?!” He called desperately, voice echoing into the otherwise eerily silent neighborhood. “ _Tommy!!_ ”

>...

>Oh fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was looking at this chapter on mobile in draft mode and it looks like mobile doesn't account for the player's font!! ): if ur reading on mobile and you don't see a special font just know in your heart the player speaks in courier new. ok thanks


	31. 01000111 01101111 01101110 01100101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big CW: aftermath of a car crash, plus a child harm scare (he's ok though!)
> 
> also fun fact: this chapter is the halfway point in the story! wordcount-wise, at least!!

Bubby forced his eyes open. Blood was rushing to his head fast, seatbelt crushing his chest as he hung upside down in the passenger seat. Hyperventilating, Bubby clawed at his seatbelt, finding the button and collapsing to the crumpled roof of the car in a heap. He looked to his side, desperately trying to make sense of what had just happened.

The driver’s seat was empty. Harold was gone.

There was a sharp pain in Bubby’s chest, and finally, he noticed blood trickling from his head. He needed to get out of the car and call for help, he thought. The passenger door was jammed shut—an ordinary human might not have been able to get it open, but Bubby managed just fine, crawling out of the overturned car and heaving in fresh air.

“Harold?” Bubby called, voice hoarse.

There was no response. Everything was eerily still outside the car; the only thing he could see for miles besides the distant glow of the city was the interstate road. No cars passed by.

Bubby pulled himself to his feet, circling around the car to double and triple check that Harold wasn’t trapped inside. Bubby collapsed to his knees, panicked and confused as he looked out across the horizon for his husband. “Harold?” He called again, to no avail.

With shaking hands, Bubby pulled out his phone, dialing Gordon’s number. He nearly spiked it on the road underneath him when he received no answer. He took a second to collect himself, though, trying Tommy’s number next. Then Benry’s. Then Darnold’s—

“Bubby?”

“Darnold!” Bubby exclaimed in relief. “Harold fucking disappeared!”

“Holy shit. Tommy disappeared, too!” Darnold said, voice shaking. “What the hell is happening?”

Bubby resisted a panicked lump forming in his throat as he pulled himself back up to his feet. “I—...I don’t know.” Bubby replied, voice cracking as he spoke. “Are you with the others?”

“I was only with Tommy. We were literally just pulled up in the driveway, and he just...I blinked, and he was gone.”

“I tried calling everyone else, and nobody answered.” Bubby went on, starting to walk shakily along the interstate. “Harold was the one driving, and—he just—he was suddenly _gone,_ and the car flipped.”

“Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“I feel like shit.” Bubby told him, feeling his ribcage. “I don’t think anything’s broken, but I’m bleeding—I need one of those fucking medical stations. Why aren’t there more of those outside Black Mesa?”

“Where are you now? I’m gonna—” Darnold started, then stopped, suddenly gasping in horror. “Oh my god. If Dr. Coomer was driving, and the car crashed—what if that happened with Gordon? What if Joshua—...?”

Bubby froze in his tracks, blood running cold. “Oh, fuck.”

“I’m gonna see if I can find Gordon’s car.” Darnold announced, followed by the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut. “You should call an ambulance for yourself if you can. I’d drive out to get you, but—”

“Don’t fucking worry about me, just find Gordon’s car!” Bubby snapped, flipping his phone shut immediately after. His stomach churned as he stuffed his phone back into his bag, pausing one last time to look around himself for Harold. When he found no sign of him, he took a deep, steadying breath, and prepared himself to utilize a power he very rarely had to use.

Bubby sped down the interstate in his car form, the road still empty other than him, even as he reentered the city. The lack of other people was eerie, but it made it easy to get to the route Gordon would’ve taken back home. Soon, he skidded to a stop at the sight of Gordon’s car, crashed into a road sign on the corner of one of the last streets before they reached their neighborhood. Darnold was there, his car parked hastily to the side as he pulled out of the backseat of Gordon’s car. Bubby shifted back into his normal form, hurrying to Darnold’s side.

“Is he okay?” Bubby asked, staring in horror at Gordon’s car.

“He’s...not there.” Darnold replied, nodding inside the car.

Bubby peered in as well, finding the car seat entirely undamaged, but empty. The seatbelts were unlatched, though, Bubby noted, as opposed to what he could see of the other seatbelts Benry and Gordon were using, which were still pulled taught over the seats. Just like with Harold. There wasn’t a trace of Joshua left behind, and he wouldn’t have been able to get out of the car on his own.

“I don’t know if I should be relieved or not.” Darnold murmured.

Bubby nodded, but let out a deep sigh nonetheless. He dropped onto the sidewalk underneath him, quickly followed by Darnold.

“Did you see anybody else on your way in?” Darnold asked.

Bubby shook his head. “No. No one.”

“Do you think...” Darnold paused, looking down at his phone in his hands. “Do you think this is it? We’re gonna disappear, too, and...that’ll be... _it?_ ”

Bubby felt sick to his stomach at that. He couldn’t find it in himself to respond.

>Fuck.

>I really don't know what to do, here. The maps seem to be fine, but none of the other NPCs are spawning in...no creatures...literally, the only living beings in this entire world right now are Darnold and Bubby.

>I have no idea how to reach the others, they won't load when I try. And I can't talk to Darnold or Bubby...this is really, really bad.

>Maybe...I have no choice but to reset.

  
  
  


>Hey, wait. It's not JUST Darnold and Bubby. There's someone else here._

****

The great thing about dogs, particularly golden retrievers, is they’re pretty susceptible to human influence. Of course they are—they’ve been domesticated, and surely, humans have been pretty well conditioned to the presence of dogs over the years, like dogs have to humans. There was actually a pretty interesting study on dog facial expressions, where...

...

>Hmm. I don't think this is working. Getting into a dog's head is kinda hard. Let's try again.

Sunkist had been at the wedding as well, just off to the side most of that time, watching her family dance and eat. She had sorely wanted some of that food as well; she’d gotten _some_ special food of her own, but Tommy was always pretty strict about what she ate, so it was clearly some specialized dog food and none of the human food. Not that that stopped her from getting into things when he wasn’t looking, but she felt pretty bad about that in retrospect.

Not in the moment, though.

She’d hopped out of the car once Tommy disappeared, sniffing carefully for him while Darnold was preoccupied. She never caught a fresh scent, though; he was just _gone._

Sunkist took to the sky after that. The search may have been harder if there were other people out complicating things—fortunately, though, nobody else was outside, meaning absolutely no distractions. Eventually, she came to a stop on top of one of the particularly tall buildings, sitting down with a disappointed sigh. Wherever he was, she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to find him like this.

>Hey, Sunkist? Can you hear me?

...

>C'mon, I was hoping you'd be able to hear me. Like, dogs are more susceptible to picking up on weird things, right? You don't have as much, like, complex thought going on in your head, so I was hoping...

Sunkist barked.

>Oh!! Was that...you saying you hear me? Bark again if you can hear me.

Sunkist barked again.

>NICE! Okay. Uhhh, now I just...need to figure out what to do from here. I guess what I really need right now is for Darnold and Bubby to be safe. If they're out of my hands, then we lose EVERYTHING to G-Man. They should be safe in MY void, I hope, but I don't know how to get them here.

Sunkist let out a low growl, then barked again, with Tommy on her mind.

>I know, I know, that's my next point! I need to get everyone else out of G-Man's void. I don't really know how, though, I can't actually see in there once I lose my grip on someone who's been put there.

>...Okay. First things first, I bet G-Man's on his way to Darnold and Bubby now. We gotta get them on the move. I think I have an idea for how to get them to my void. Sunkist, can you find them for me?

Sunkist stood, sniffing the air and launching back towards home. She found them easily, touching down in front of them as they sat on the concrete.

“Sunkist!” Darnold exclaimed, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “Oh my god, I thought you were gone, too.”

>Okay. I need you to get them to the remains of Black Mesa. Can you do that?

Sunkist pulled away from Darnold, barking and bouncing off in the direction of Black Mesa. She turned around to check if they were following, huffing when she found they were still sitting down. She grabbed Darnold’s sleeve, tugging him harshly towards his car. Darnold and Bubby exchanged a look before Bubby stood. Sunkist bounded eagerly towards Darnold’s car, barking back towards Darnold as he remained seated. Bubby looked back at Darnold from the side of the car.

“Darnold? Are you coming?” Bubby asked.

Darnold bit his lip, curling in on himself a little bit. “I...I don’t know.”

“Darnold, come on, I know following a dog feels fucking ridiculous, but she’s the only lead we have.” Bubby insisted.

Darnold frowned as Sunkist trotted back to him, licking his face a few times and pulling on his sleeve again, twitching her tail from side to side in a signal of frustration. Darnold nudged her away gently.

“I’m just—...I don’t know if I can...go on some big adventure.” Darnold said uneasily, voice shaking a little bit. “I’ll just slow you down.”

“This isn’t an _adventure!_ ” Bubby snapped. “This is my _husband!_ Come on, don’t you want to find everyone else?”

“What if they reappear here, and they come looking for us?” Darnold asked defensively. “I think it’s best if I stay behind. You—...you go ahead. I’m sorry.”

Bubby growled. In the blink of an eye, he was back in his car form, ready to follow Sunkist. Sunkist stood in front of Darnold though, still wagging her tail in small, tense motions, letting out a deep whine.

“I’m sorry, Sunkist.” Darnold said, patting her head. “I just...I can’t go.”

>...It's okay, Sunkist. I don't think we have the time to push him. I gotta keep at least one of them.

Sunkist whined again.

>I know :( But we're getting them all back, I promise, okay? Just take Bubby to Black Mesa. Please?

Sunkist huffed, launching up into the sky. Bubby revved his engine, following close behind her and speeding up once they were on the interstate out of the city.

>Good girl, Sunkist, thank you!!

Sunkist wagged her tail excitedly.

>Okay. I need you to take him to the old Nihilanth's enclosure, if you can. You remember where that is?

Sunkist barked in affirmation.

>Awesome! I'm gonna switch back to Darnold to keep an eye on him for a minute, okay? It's kinda hard to hold onto this perspective, but I'll be back to watch over Bubby once I see you guys have gotten there. We'll get Tommy back, I promise.

****

Darnold held his knees close to his chest as he listened to Bubby and Sunkist go. Being completely alone wasn’t doing his anxiety any favors; he felt helpless, small, alone against the entire, empty world. He flipped his phone open, looking over his last texts with Tommy. They had been discussing the wedding earlier that morning, he remembered with a deep sigh.

Now he was gone. And he wasn’t doing a damn thing about it.

What _could_ he do, though? What was Bubby even going to find? Were they going to have to fight soldiers or aliens again? They didn’t know much about the rules of this world; but for all Darnold knew, he could _die,_ permanently. He couldn’t bring himself to consider facing those possibilities. He flipped his phone shut, burying his face in his knees.

Then again, Bubby could die permanently, too. Could Bubby have clawed his way out of Black Mesa alone, if it hadn’t been a game? Probably not. He was going out to face a threat alone, now, abandoning all safety for their friends—no, their _family._ They’d been through hell together, and Bubby was completely willing to plunge himself back into hell for them, with or without Darnold.

Darnold gritted his teeth, looking up at the pitch-black sky as he remembered his last conversation with Tommy before he disappeared. They were always meant to be friends. They were always intended to be _together._

Darnold’s knees shook underneath him as he stood, stuffing his phone back into his dress pocket. He wasn’t going to let them move on without him. Not again.

Darnold clambered into his car, slamming on the gas pedal to follow in the direction he’d seen Bubby and Sunkist go. He wasn’t entirely certain what turns to take, but he went with his gut feeling, heading out towards the interstate and flooring the gas pedal. His car wasn’t very fast; he was worried he wouldn’t catch up, but sure enough, he started to see the small dot of Sunkist out in the distance. He honked his horn desperately, earning Sunkist’s attention. She stopped, as did Bubby, allowing Darnold to catch up. He hit the breaks hard once he arrived, rolling down his window.

“C’mon, Bubby!” Darnold called to him.

Bubby shifted back into his normal form, hesitating for a moment before climbing into the passenger seat. Darnold gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands, steadying himself before he began driving again.

“We’re...” Bubby paused, swallowing hard as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “We’re going back towards Black Mesa, aren’t we?”

Darnold sighed quietly, nodding slowly. He could feel a tug, like a string wrapped around his ribcage, beckoning him back towards where everything had started. “...Yeah. I think we are.”

Bubby took a deep, shaky breath, burying his face in his hands. Darnold bit his lip, unsure of what to say. He cared deeply for Bubby, but he didn’t actually know him all that well—what would be comforting to say?

“It’s...I’m sure it’s gonna be okay.” Darnold said unconvincingly.

Bubby didn’t respond.

It took a while to get to the remains of Black Mesa. It was fenced off, construction equipment abandoned inside. It was strange to see it like this; Darnold felt like Black Mesa at its best was carved deeply in his memory, into his very _being,_ and now it was just...wrecked. Not even abandoned, but clearly, being actively torn into, the old bones of the facility excavated piece by piece. Bubby was hyperventilating by Darnold’s side, now, clutching his chest with one hand and covering his head with the other.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Darnold tried.

Bubby forced in a deep breath, searching his bag desperately for something. He pulled out his stress ball, squeezing it hard in his hand until it burst into useless pieces. He dropped it into his lap, forcing in another deep breath. Darnold sat there in silence, waiting patiently until Bubby could finally breathe easily.

“You ready?” Darnold asked gently.

“...Not really.” Bubby sighed. “Let’s go.”

Darnold and Bubby climbed out of the car, Sunkist eagerly hopping up on Darnold for a moment before standing at the fence. She sailed over it easily, waiting on the other side with a wagging tail. Darnold stared at Bubby in surprise as he floated over it just as easily.

“You can _fly?_ ” Darnold asked incredulously.

“I don’t _like_ to, but yeah.” Bubby replied, crossing his arms. “Hurry up and get over here.”

Darnold sighed, shrugging off his jacket and sorely wishing he had changed out of his dress before coming here. He tossed the jacket aside, latched onto the fence and began to climb. He flopped clumsily to the other side, falling hard onto his back. He had to spend a second recovering, Sunkist immediately towering over him and licking his face.

“I’m okay.” Darnold wheezed, staggering to his feet and brushing himself off. “What now, Sunkist?”

Sunkist trotted ahead, Darnold and Bubby having to jog behind her to keep up. She sniffed the ground carefully, quickly finding an easy way into one of the buildings—through the entrance of the old dorms. Bubby clutched his stomach as they entered, looking warily towards where the security desk used to be.

“You okay?” Darnold asked.

Bubby nodded, pushing his glasses up on his face uneasily.

Everything on the first floor had been torn up; all the furniture was gone, and the walls marking rooms had been demolished, making it just one massive, consistent room. So massive, in fact, and _dark,_ that Darnold couldn’t see the ends of the room from where they stood. Darnold wasn’t even sure he’d be able to find his old dorm if they headed to his floor and tried. Darnold stumbled as Sunkist led them towards where the old stairwell used to be, squinting as they moved further into darkness. His foot caught on something as he walked, kicking away something clearly made of heavy metal. He shuffled forward a little, bending over to pick it up. It was a flashlight—probably left behind by the construction crew, he thought. Convenient. He clicked it on and hurried after the others. Sunkist led them deep down the stairwell, taking them out to the tram stop where Darnold would board every morning to go to his lab.

“It’s...sorta weird.” Darnold commented uneasily. “We must’ve been missing each other every day, going to work. We never knew that, like, we’d be friends, but now...here we are.”

Bubby still remained silent, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as they walked.

It was a long journey through Black Mesa. The tram was still out of service, just like after the resonance cascade; they had to walk on foot the whole way. At least this time, there were no aliens or soldiers, Darnold thought—not that he had needed to fight them himself for his own journey, anyway. They climbed up to one of the tram stations at Sunkist’s request, Darnold following behind her towards some of the old labs. He stopped when he didn’t hear footsteps behind him; he turned, finding Bubby staring into the labs with a mortified expression.

“...You alright?” Darnold asked.

“This is...” Bubby swallowed hard. “Biological research.”

Darnold frowned, fiddling with the flashlight in his hands uncertainly. “It’s okay. It’s been broken down for a year, now. It’ll be okay.”

Bubby gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He stepped forward and gripped Darnold’s forearm, nodding towards the labs. “...Let’s go.” He muttered.

Darnold led Bubby through the labs, the _click-clack_ of Sunkist’s claws, Bubby and Darnold’s footsteps, and Bubby’s erratic breaths all echoing through the halls they walked through. Bubby stopped as they started to pass one of the doors, dragging Darnold to a stop as well. Sunkist paused ahead of them, watching them impatiently as Bubby released Darnold and stepped towards the door beside them.

“Bubby...are you sure you should...y’know.” Darnold said awkwardly, watching him reach for the door.

Bubby stopped for a moment, silent as he stayed turned away from Darnold. After a tense moment, he opened the door, stepping inside. Darnold stood just outside the room, watching Bubby approach the massive remains of a tube; the glass front had been shattered, but the metal backing remained. Bubby stared up at it for a long time, hands clenched into fists. After a little while, he moved further into the lab, disappearing into one of the rooms. Darnold stayed where he was, unsure whether it was appropriate to be in there with him or not.

After a minute or two, Darnold heard a loud c _rash_ from that room. Darnold gritted his teeth, holding his breath for a moment as he hyped himself up, then rushed into the lab, poking his head into the room Bubby had stepped into. He was terrified he’d find some horrible monster attacking Bubby; instead, he found Bubby attacking the room itself. He’d thrown a dresser beside an uncomfortable looking bed with metal framing down to the floor. He brought his foot down heavily on it, breaking it into smaller pieces. He pried one of the boards apart, throwing it violently at the wall. He ripped into the bed’s mattress, pried the metal framing of the bed apart, and slammed one of the bars into the drywall. Darnold stepped away from the room, biting his lip as he listened to Bubby rip everything in the room into pieces. Fire burst out of the doorway, crackling as it began to spread down the hall—Darnold yelped in surprise as he jumped back to avoid it. Bubby emerged from the room, stepping out of the flames with his teeth bared and a glowing hot metal bar from the bed still in hand.

He attacked the remains of the tube next, prying it apart from the outside, setting it on fire, and hitting it hard with the bar in his hands until it was rendered completely useless. Breathing hard, tears flowing down his cheeks, Bubby finally collapsed to his knees, dropping the metal bar with a _clank._ Darnold knelt down beside him. While he wasn’t a very touchy person, this might be a moment where he’d consider pushing past that a little to comfort a friend; Bubby was still on fire, though, leaving that out of the question, anyway. Unsure what else to do, Darnold kept his distance.

“I’m...sorry, Bubby.” Darnold said quietly as Bubby sobbed. “We should get out of here.”

Sunkist trotted into the room, nudging her head underneath Bubby’s arms—entirely unbothered by the fire engulfing him. The flames began to subside as she whined, licking his face before laying down in his lap. Bubby let out a deep, shuddering breath, slumping down to bury his face into her side, just like Tommy always did when he was overwhelmed. After a few quiet moments like this, Bubby nudged Sunkist off his lap gently, starting to stand shakily. Darnold quickly got to his feet, helping Bubby up.

“You good to keep going?” Darnold asked carefully.

Bubby nodded. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

Darnold helped an unsteady Bubby out of the lab, and they began following Sunkist again. She led them deep into the catacombs of Black Mesa, much further than Darnold had ever gone in his entire employment. Finally, they reached the Lambda lab, Sunkist bounding down a hallway ahead of them. Darnold and Bubby jogged to keep up, listening to her barks echoing down the halls and following her sweet voice as she took them to a small, open lab with a door at the back of the room. She paused at the door, clawing at it eagerly. Bubby stared at it in astonishment, recognition in his eyes.

“What is this?” Darnold asked as he opened the door for Sunkist.

Sunkist sprinted down a long hallway with many doors off to the sides, stopping at the very last door at the end of the hall. She jumped and barked beside it urgently as she waited for them.

“...The Nihilanth’s containment chamber.” Bubby breathed as they followed her to the end of the hall. “What is she taking us _here_ for?”

Sunkist barked some more as Darnold opened the last door, leading them into a massive, circular room. There was one long, continuous hallway surrounding a huge enclosure—he knew that the Nihilanth had been big, based on what he heard from Tommy, but this was _enormous._ Bubby stood in front of the glass, a reminiscent look in his eyes as he stared into the center of the enclosure.

“This was Tommy’s whole life, pretty soon after I first met him.” Bubby said. “He did some really stupid shit back then. He used to be so much more impulsive when he was younger.”

Darnold smiled a little bit. “Yeah. He told me a little bit about that.”

“...I hope he’s okay.” Bubby murmured. “I hope they’re _all_ okay.”

Darnold nodded slowly, smile falling. “Yeah. Me too.”

Darnold looked expectantly towards Sunkist, waiting for her to do something that told them what to do next, but she just laid down on the floor, looking back up at him mournfully. 

“What now?” Darnold asked, circling around the room curiously.

Bubby shrugged. “I don’t know. The Nihilanth’s been gone for over ten years, now.”

As Darnold reached the back of the enclosure, he found the heavy metal door into the chamber was slightly ajar. The rusted metal groaned as he pulled it open, allowing him access into the enclosure. Bubby followed him around the back as he stepped inside curiously.

“What _was_ the Nihilanth?” Darnold asked, turning back towards Bubby.

Bubby shrugged again. “Some kind of...portal. A hole in reality. Something like that.”

Darnold hummed thoughtfully. “‘Nihilanth’...isn’t that name, like, familiar to you?”

“Well, considering it was a significant part of Tommy’s career for years, sure.”

Darnold huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms and tapping his heel against the floor as he thought. Where had he heard that name before meeting Tommy? He wondered.

Sunkist began barking again outside the enclosure. Darnold looked up, watching as she stood and sprinted towards the door. She grabbed onto the hem of Bubby’s jacket, dragging him into the center of the enclosure. Bubby stood there beside Darnold, both staring down at her in confusion as she began to prance in circles around them, barking enthusiastically.

“What?” Bubby questioned. “What do you want?”

Darnold tried to step out of the circle she’d established for them, but she stopped him, nudging him back into the center of the chamber. She sat down between them, beginning to howl sweet voice.

“What are we supposed to do, here?” Darnold asked.

Sunkist kept howling insistently. Darnold looked up at Bubby, who only shrugged, so they just stood there, waiting for something to make sense.

Darnold yawned after a good few minutes, Sunkist still howling. Bubby plopped down on the ground, resting his head in his hands.

“What the hell are we doing here?” Bubby grumbled irritably. “Who knows where the hell everyone else is, and we’re just stuck _here_ with Tommy’s goddamn dog making a racket.”

Darnold sat down as well. “I’m...sure something will make sense eventually.”

“...I _knew_ something was going to go wrong.”

Darnold looked at Bubby. “Hm?”

“I can’t just—I can’t just have a normal life with Harold, can I?” Bubby demanded, hugging his knees close to his chest. “Right before the wedding, Gordon was all reassuring, telling me nothing bad was going to happen, but I _felt_ it. As soon as we get married, I’m lured into a sense of... _false security,_ and now he’s gone, and—and...now, this might be it for us, after all.”

Darnold bit his lip, fiddling with the hem of his dress in his hands. “...I’m really sorry, Bubby. At least...we had the time that we did. You know?”

Bubby gritted his teeth, balling his hands up into fists. “It’s not fucking fair. I spent my entire life trapped _here,_ only to have just _barely_ under a year free? I didn’t even get time to adjust! I just—”

Bubby let out a sharp, frustrated breath, slamming his fist down on the floor. “My entire life was _wasted_ here! I didn’t even get to catch up on everything I missed! 40 years of being held away at arm’s length from Harold, and when I finally— _finally_ —get to live with him and marry him, it’s all taken away from me again, and...I really am going to die here. Like...like I always thought.”

Bubby buried his face in his hands, whole body shaking, now. Darnold reached out to him, gently wrapping his arms around him the best he could manage.

“I’m sorry.” Darnold said quietly. “I...don’t really know what to say. That _is_ unfair. I’m really, really sorry.”

Bubby wiped clumsily at his face, then hugged Darnold back tightly. “I’m—...I’m glad at least...you’re here. I don’t think I could do this alone.”

Darnold nodded. “Yeah. Sorry I tried to back out. Uhh...the year we spent together was pretty good. A little rough sometimes, but...good. I’m really glad I got to spend it with you all.”

Bubby pulled away from Darnold, wiping at his face again. “Yeah. I’m glad you were there. We don’t really talk much, I guess, but you’ve always seemed like a good man.”

Darnold smiled a little bit. “Thanks. You, too. I guess I’ve always really admired your relationship with Dr. Coomer, and like, how resilient you are. I don’t really know much about what you went through—which, like, I’m not pressing for details, that’s your own business if you don’t wanna talk about it with me—but it seemed hard. But you seem to be recovering really well from it. I admire that a lot.”

Bubby looked away in embarrassment. “Okay, okay, that’s enough heart-to-heart, quit it.”

Darnold chuckled, looking back at Sunkist. “Are we, like, waiting for something to happen here, or...are we supposed to be doing something?”

Sunkist just kept howling.

“Yeah. I thought so.” Darnold sighed.

They sat there for a few more minutes, just waiting in silence, other than Sunkist’s insistent howling. Finally, though, Darnold felt something. The pressure in the room changed, and the temperature and humidity skyrocketed. Darnold exchanged a look with Bubby, instinctively reaching out to him.

“I-is this it?” Bubby asked, voice shaking. He swallowed hard. “Is this...the end?”

“...Maybe.” Darnold replied, gripping his hand tightly. “I...love you, Bubby.”

Bubby gripped his hand back. “I love you too, Darnold.”

Darnold closed his eyes tightly, flashing back to the first time he’d ever fallen out of existence. That panicked, soul-crushing feeling returned with a vengeance as the pressure change seemed to reach a climax.

_Snap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> darnold: [panicking about everyone disappearing and reality and everything]  
> bubby: https://64.media.tumblr.com/da13f76ba799bd3106f7cf410dee45dc/856d5183df0f27cc-a0/s640x960/5502d22ed6d60aed339091d269b1ef4c47937d01.jpg


	32. 01010000 01101100 01100001 01111001 01100101 01110010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this chapter is a Lot of information at once it's just. the payoff of a bunch of worldbuilding i've been progressively setting up lol. get ready for some more [alfred eggman voice] what are you FUCKING TALKING ABOUT type worldbuilding lmao
> 
> also this chapter DOES contain some briefly mentioned hl2/big hl:a spoilers, but the bigger spoilers start actually hitting next chapter. watch out!!

Darnold wasn’t sure what he expected to find when he opened his eyes again. In fact, he had expected that he wouldn’t have eyes to even open, anymore. Instead, however, Darnold found himself still smack in the middle of the Nihilanth’s enclosure—but instead of the dark, rusted remains of the workspace outside it, he found a bustling hallway filled with scientists. Darnold still felt Bubby’s hand in his own, and Sunkist’s fur underneath his forearm—they were still there with him, just as alive and fully existent as he was.

Darnold and Bubby both scrambled to their feet, exchanging a shocked look before Darnold looked around him inside the chamber. There was something _massive_ looming over them, something Darnold couldn’t process when he tried to look at it. It jutted out at sharp, incomprehensible angles that shifted around the chamber, redirecting light around him like little spotlights, always leaving it in a deep shadow. Sounds echoed from it at random—a baby crying, water boiling, rocks falling, trees rustling—never ending, never repeating, drilling into Darnold’s skull. Terror surged in his chest, and he immediately collapsed onto the ground, staring up at it in horror. Bubby grasped his hand tightly, dragging him away from the center of the chamber.

“What is that thing?!” Darnold shouted, closing his eyes tightly again.

“That’s the Nihilanth.” Bubby answered. Bubby released Darnold to bang on the glass. “Hey! Hey!! Let us out!”

Darnold turned away from the Nihilanth, watching Bubby catch the attention of several dumbfounded scientists—including one of his own prototypes, he noted. Then, his eyes landed on Tommy. Darnold scrambled to his feet, pressing his hands to the glass.

“Tommy!” Darnold shouted with a relieved smile.

Tommy took a step back, though, looking to another scientist. Darnold frowned, brow furrowing when he realized who he was speaking to—another Tommy. And another. Darnold searched the faces of all the scientists in the hallway looped around the enclosure for any _unfamiliar_ face—he thought he found one at first, but he realized with a start that the scientist he thought he most certainly didn’t know was, in fact, someone he knew all too well.

It was _him_. There were at least five Tommys, and another good five Darnolds, all talking to each other thoughtfully as they observed Darnold, Bubby, and Sunkist in the enclosure like fascinating scientific anomalies.

“What...the fuck.” Darnold breathed.

“What?” Bubby asked.

“You don’t—you don’t see that?” Darnold demanded, pointing at a cluster of scientists. “They’re all me and Tommy! Except for that prototype over there, it’s _all us!_ ”

Bubby looked back out the glass, eyes widening when he finally seemed to notice it, too. “What the fuck? How didn’t I ever notice that?”

Darnold took a turn banging on the glass, frowning deeply as he realized none of them were making any move to let them out of the chamber. “Hey! Let us out, please!” He shouted.

Darnold stared carefully at a security guard he was fairly certain _had_ to be Benry as he stepped in front of the glass. He was shorter and stouter than the rest of the security guards, exactly the same as the Benry he knew so well—but he had an expression on his face Darnold had never seen on him before. Benry wasn’t usually super expressive, unless what he was feeling was _really_ extreme, but even then, it was still like his expressions never quite reached his eyes. Benry stared at them with wide eyes, then looked up to the Nihilanth as he pressed his hands against the glass. Benry turned away, demanding the attention of a couple scientists. Darnold couldn’t hear them through the glass, but he could see they were starting to get into a heated argument. Benry, still turned away from them, slammed a fist on the glass, making some loud declaration that was muffled beyond hearing. One of the scientists—a Tommy—nodded suddenly, scrambling to a console close to Bubby and typing something in before scanning his eyes for confirmation.

Darnold jumped in surprise, pressing his palms to his ears as an alarm began to sound. Benry circled around the enclosure to the door, opening it and beckoning them towards it. Bubby exchanged a glance with Darnold before heading towards the exit, Sunkist trotting behind him. Something felt wrong about it, Darnold couldn’t help but think, but he followed behind Bubby regardless, eager to get away from the Nihilanth.

They were nearly out the door when a figure wearing a suit stepped behind Benry. Bubby, Darnold, and Sunkist all froze in their tracks, watching as the suited man with icy, glowing eyes shoved Benry inside the chamber. Benry fell hard to the ground, scrambling to his feet and looking behind him as the man in the suit stepped inside as well, closing the door behind him. The alarm stopped, allowing Darnold to unplug his ears as the man in the suit looked to the scientists, making a motion with his hand like he was zipping his lips. The scientists outside the chamber immediately nodded in understanding.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Benry demanded in a southern accent. Darnold looked at him curiously. Maybe that wasn’t Benry...?

Darnold glanced around him, faced with all the scientists and security guards staring intently into the chamber. The man in the suit took a step forward, grabbing not-Benry by the vest.

“Tying up...loose ends.” He replied, dragging him towards the center of the chamber.

Not-Benry struggled against the man in the suit, but he was dragged along easily, like he weighed absolutely nothing. The man simply tossed not-Benry into the Nihilanth’s center unceremoniously, where he disappeared entirely, before turning back to Darnold, Bubby, and Sunkist.

“Come along.” The man said, beckoning them forward.

“Like hell!” Bubby barked back, pressing his back against the glass of the enclosure. “I’m not going in there!”

Sunkist trotted forward, though, turning back to look at Bubby and Darnold with a wagging tail.

“Sunkist, come back!” Darnold pleaded, reaching out to her.

Sunkist barked, paying the man in the suit no mind as she lunged right into the Nihilanth’s center.

“M-maybe...” Darnold started before trailing off, simply looking at Bubby.

Bubby let out a tense, annoyed breath. “Of fucking course.” He grumbled. “We don’t have a choice, do we?”

“I’m afraid not.” The man in the suit chimed in.

Neither of them seemed to want to make the first move. The man tapped his foot impatiently, pulling his sleeve back to look at his watch.

“We don’t...have much, time, left.” The man said insistently. “Perhaps, you need a little, incentive?”

The man began to reach into his breast pocket. Darnold gritted his teeth, grabbing Bubby’s hand again.

“No thanks!” Darnold said. Whatever it was he was about to pull out—probably a gun, he thought, but somehow, he got the impression this man could do much worse—Darnold didn’t want to find out. “L-let’s go.”

Bubby let out a short breath. “Yeah. Let’s go. ...On three.”

Darnold nodded. “Yeah. On three. One...t—”

Bubby suddenly charged forward, screaming the whole way as he dragged Darnold along with him. Darnold screamed as well, covering his eyes with his free hand as Bubby plunged them right into the center of the Nihilanth.

>Oof. I've got a really bad feeling about this.

Darnold opened his eyes again, still gripping Bubby’s hand. Looking around, he never had the opportunity to catch up with what he was seeing—his surroundings kept changing at random, every half a second or so. He reached out to Sunkist, taking her by the collar and holding on tightly to her and Bubby as they were teleported over and over. He saw the outside of an unfamiliar mall, somewhere in a desert, someone’s very neatly maintained front yard, an endless expanse of bright snow, a field of corn, they were plunged into freezing cold water, then dumped right back out in front of a lake. Darnold was getting ready to scream or run until it all finally came to a stop—his vision went completely black.

 _Am I dead?_ Darnold wondered.

No, he thought—he could still feel Sunkist’s collar and Bubby’s hand. He looked to his sides, confirming they were both there and very much alive. So where were they? He wondered, taking a deep breath and shivering. Sunkist shook herself off, spraying cold water everywhere.

“...We stopped.” Bubby breathed.

“Where are we?” Darnold asked.

“I think...this is the void that Tommy was talking about. Where he saved Benry.” Bubby replied, looking around. He froze, staring at something off in the distance. “...What’s _that?_ ”

Darnold followed his gaze, finding something he couldn’t quite perceive. It...sort of looked like a person, he thought as Bubby began to take a few tentative steps closer, dragging Darnold along with him. Sunkist broke away from Darnold, bounding towards the not-person in the distance.

“Sunkist, come back!” Darnold called.

Sunkist barked, pausing to wag her tail at Darnold, then keep going. She approached the not-person excitedly, nudging her head underneath incorporeal hands for attention.

>...Damn, I really wish I could pet her for real. :(

“What?” Darnold furrowed his brow, staring at the not-person carefully. “Who...who are you?”

>Oh shit, can you hear me now?

“...Yes?”

“Are you talking to that guy?” Bubby asked, glancing between Darnold and the not-person. “How come I can’t hear them?”

>Ehhh, tell him it's complicated.

“It’s complicated?” Darnold repeated cautiously. “Who are you?”

>Well...that's also complicated. I'm sort of the guy, like, dictating the reality you live in, in a sense.

“What, like...you’re some sort of god?” Darnold asked, approaching the incorporeal person.

>Uhhhhhh...I guess...TECHNICALLY if you wanna see it that way, sure, but that feels super weird, I don't really see it that way.

Darnold held up his hands in mock defeat. “Okay, sure, not a god. Then...if you have control over reality, can I ask you some questions?”

>Yeah sure, but I don't really know how much time we've got.

“Oh, uhh...” Darnold paused. “Oh god, now I’m panicking, I don’t know what to ask, anymore. Uhh—what’s the meaning of life?”

>Lol. Idk. I'm not that high up in, like, the sort of hierarchy of things to really be assed with having an answer to that. I'm kinda just like, a guy, but not really.

“Okay, fine, then. Umm—where are our friends? Are...we gonna die soon?”

>No no, I mean, not if I can help it. I nudged you guys here so I can protect you. You guys owe Sunkist, like, a really special dinner or something sometime, by the way, I couldn't have done any of that without her.

>Everyone else is in G-Man's void, though. You know, the guy in the suit you just saw, who didn't follow you through for some reason? He kidnapped everyone else. And you're in MY void.

“How many voids are there?”

>Two! G-Man's void is a place that's actually contained, and only he has full access to it. Not even I can actually go out of my way to look in there for some reason. And then you know how like, you go outside of a map, and there's just empty space? That's my void. An endless expanse that's only "here" in a sense because we can't comprehend an actual, literal NON-EXISTENCE. See, your reality is malleable, something you can't even comprehend can't actually exist, because your brain will always accommodate for it, and WE see what YOU see, and what YOU see in turn makes reality. Does that make sense?

“Not at all, even in the slightest.”

>Damn. Okay.

“What about the Nihilanth? I couldn’t comprehend that.”

>You could though! It's like a fucked up video game glitch. You know? Like those SFM videos where someone fucks up the model and it starts like, clipping everywhere? Like...a fucked up G-mod pac. Y'know? It's hard to explain. You couldn't get a truly incomprehensible eldritch creature in here, because WE see what YOUR brain makes of it. And your brain is always gonna autofill the blanks it doesn't understand. Like how people say pink isn't a real color, y'know? There's like, not a wavelength that actually creates it, your brain just bridges that gap on its own.

“Alright. Sure. I’m not processing any of this, but okay. I just wanna find Tommy and everyone else.”

>Yeah, yeah, okay. I'm...not actually sure how to get to G-Man's void. Or out of it. Once you're in, he just like, HAS you. I'm sure there's something I could do to pull them out, but...I haven't figured it out, yet. Just by nature, G-Man has a lot of unfilled blanks, which makes it really hard for me to get a grip on what makes him tick.

“...Did you _make_ G-Man?”

>Huh? No. I guess in a sense, I made YOU guys...? But not G-Man, Gordon, or Dr. Breen.

“That’s really weirdly specific.”

>You remember though, right? In the game, you were like, feeling like Gordon was the center of everything? He's the player character, canonically. You guys are like, offshoots. It's complicated.

“...If you made us, then like...hey, what the _fuck_ was the deal with my childhood?” Darnold demanded. “Tommy and I were talking about it, how like—it felt like nobody else really even... _existed._ What the hell?”

>Uuuuhhhh...sorry, that was a fuckup on my part. So, like...I really wanted you ALL to have backstory stuff. I started out with Dr. Coomer and Bubby, then I moved on to Tommy and Benry. Those were the easiest for me to craft, because, like, I have limits. It's sort of a hardware issue along with my own lack of experience, I guess--I'm sorta new at this. Black Mesa is a hard-set constant, already fleshed out, because from this universe's perspective, it's ALWAYS existed. Gordon's like, the center of one's EXPERIENCE with reality, whereas Black Mesa is like...the epicenter of where everything started, location-wise. I can build on things inside of it SUPER easy. Tommy and Benry's was kinda hard because it sorta took a life of its own in a way that was hard to wrangle? That happens to extents too--I can kinda try and push things a specific direction, but they'll sorta...go off and build on themselves sometimes, you know? All that shit about the Nihilanth was part of that. That's how a lot of backstory stuff happens. I'm not experiencing things chronologically, here. The game happened first. And everyone started bringing up little backstory things--Dr. Coomer said he has cybernetic enhancements, Bubby said he was a test tube baby, Tommy said he made Sunkist, and like...Benry...well things went absolutely wild with Benry. But you know how it is with him.

“...I guess so.”

>So then like, everything with Dr. Coomer and Bubby / Tommy and Benry, I was able to build in-depth. Then I move on to you, who didn't really have too much significant experience in Black Mesa like the others did, not to mention the fact that you never actually auto-built anything on your own backstory--at least, nothing that became usable to ME that you brought up--and...things kinda fell apart.

“What? How?”

>Well, it was hard to build your life outside of Black Mesa. I sorta started building the environment, a close friend, you know, that sort of thing. But it just...didn't work out the way I wanted it to. It was too vague and indistinct for you to really thrive in. I'm...REALLY sorry, Darnold. I fucked up big time. But I'm getting better at it! You guys all have houses and stuff now! I'm...hoping that makes up for it.

“It...kind of doesn’t?” Darnold said incredulously. “I was terrified my entire life about, like, reality and whether or not everything was gonna— _close in_ on me. Every morning when I woke up, I thought I was gonna step out of bed and immediately get hit by a wall of non-existence, and that would be it. I’d be stuck in my bed, and maybe even just stop existing entirely! What the fuck?!”

>): I'm sorry, Darnold.

“I missed out on a bunch of cool things because I was always set on, like, _tram lines._ That’s really fucked up.” Darnold continued. “I—”

Darnold jumped as screaming of several voices began to echo into the void, progressively getting louder and louder. Darnold searched frantically for the source, reaching out to hold onto Bubby—Bubby holding onto Darnold in turn—as something seemed to open up above them. He couldn’t _see_ it, but he could _feel_ it—a hole being torn into the void they stood in.

>What the fuck?

Darnold’s eyes widened as something began to press into the void. A familiar face, looking down at them in surprise as the screaming continued.

“ _Benry?_ ” Bubby questioned in astonishment.

“Hhhgh—hold on.” Benry growled, wrenching his eyes shut. The screaming continued as he began to drag himself into the void, revealing several hands holding onto him. Not just that, they were _pushing_ him downward into the void. “Guys, start yelling at me.”

“What?”

“Just do it!” Another voice shouted back, before going back to screaming.

Darnold and Bubby exchanged a look before they started screaming as well, earning a particularly uncomfortable expression from Benry. Eyes closed tight, he reached out blindly towards them.

>Grab onto him! Pull him in!

Darnold, still screaming at the top of his lungs, grabbed onto Benry, starting to pull him in. That revealed more of the people holding onto him progressively as Bubby started helping him, until more faces began to appear. Darnold locked eyes with Tommy—a Tommy that recognized him when he looked back.

“Harold!” Bubby shouted in relief.

“We’re almost there! Come on!” Gordon shouted—at least, he _had_ to be Gordon, he just didn’t look quite the same. He held onto Benry one-handed so he could hold Joshua—looking perfectly healthy—in his other arm.

Soon, the group tumbled to the surface that passed for the floor in this void, falling on top of each other in a heap. They all stopped screaming, breathing out deep sighs of relief.

>Goddamn. That was a smart move! I wouldn't have thought of that.

“Harold!” Bubby repeated, wrapping Dr. Coomer up in his arms. Dr. Coomer hugged him back tightly, burying his face into the nape of his neck. “I thought you were gone!”

“It’s okay, Bubby, I’m here.” Dr. Coomer replied, voice hoarse.

“Darnold!” Tommy exclaimed, throwing himself full-force into Darnold’s arms.

Darnold relaxed significantly in Tommy’s embrace, hugging him back as if he’d simply disappear if he didn’t hold on tight. He closed his eyes, burying his face in his shoulder as he let himself finally process the fear that had been threatening to overwhelm him just minutes before. He thought he’d never see him again. He thought he had missed out on every opportunity to tell him he loved him, and he would never get the opportunity again—never see his smile, never hear him laugh or infodump about Invitation to Love or Beyblades. Darnold opened his eyes, glancing towards the strange, incorporeal person nearby as he held Tommy a little closer.

“You don’t...hear that, do you?” Darnold asked Tommy, heat rushing to his cheeks.

“Hear what?”

>Oop--sorry. No, nobody else can hear me, it's just you.

“Uhh—nothing.” Darnold murmured before reluctantly pulling away from Tommy and holding him by the shoulders. “Are you guys okay? I heard you got, like, _kidnapped._ ”

Darnold finally noticed Tommy wasn’t wearing his wedding suit like he was before—he was in his pajamas, looking far more exhausted than he’d been after the wedding. In fact, looking closer at the others, only Dr. Coomer and Joshua were dressed the same way they’d been before; Gordon even looked _younger_ , with shorter hair and no beard.

“G-Man.” Tommy growled, shoulders tensing underneath Darnold’s palms.

“Mr. Coolatta took us!” Dr. Coomer explained, holding onto Bubby for dear life. “It was quite a lot like when I had clones running around.”

“Like—my brain was split up into two different places at once, but only one of them was able to recognize it.” Gordon filled in.

“Is Joshua okay?” Darnold asked reflexively, moving away from Tommy to look at him closely.

“Yeah, he’s fine, thank god.” Gordon replied with a nod. “Soon as I disappeared, G-Man appeared again in the void and handed him over.”

“Where are we now?” Dr. Coomer asked.

“Void.” Benry murmured, face-down on the floor. He clumsily lifted his head, nodding in the direction of the not-person who spoke into Darnold’s head. “Gordon’s there.”

“What? I’m right here.” Gordon pointed out, holding Joshua close as he pulled himself to his feet.

“No, no, the _other_ Gordon.” Benry slurred, as though it was obvious and annoying to have to explain.

>Hmmm. I think now that I've got Gordon back, I'm gonna switch back over to him...

“Have him back? Switch back?” Darnold echoed.

>Oh, sorry. Forgot for a sec you can hear me. Yeah, uhh--you won’t even notice any difference, except you won’t be able to hear me, anymore, I think.

“Oh. Uhh, okay. Bye.”

****

Gordon was having a very, _very_ bad month.

His lived experiences, his whole timeline, was completely out of whack now as he stood in this new void. What difference did it make, anyway? He didn’t want to be in a different void. He wanted to go _home._ And two parts of his brain, merged but still somewhat, vaguely independent of one another, pictured two different places when he had that thought. One part of him wanted to return to Barnaby. The other wanted to go back to his new house.

“What is this?” Gordon asked, looking around him. “Why are my thoughts, like—being _narrated?_ ”

>Oh! Hi, Gordon.

“...Hi?”

“Now Gordon can hear whoever that guy is too, and I still can’t?” Bubby demanded impatiently. He approached the strange silhouetted person nearby, squinting as he tried to investigate him. “Who are you? What do you want with us?”

>Hey, Gordon. Can you tell everyone to be patient? I can only talk to one of you at a time, and I wanna address everyone's concerns as much as I can, but I kinda wanna talk to you first.

“Why?” Gordon asked, watching as the strange person stepped away from Bubby.

>It's like...we're connected. It's important we talk one-on-one. Trust me.

Gordon paused hesitantly, turning to Darnold. “Umm, can you hold Josh for me? He wants you guys to be patient while I talk to him myself.”

Darnold nodded, reaching out for him. “Yeah, sure.”

Gordon approached the person, standing in front of him and furrowing his brow as he tried to get a closer look at him. He was sort of humanoid, but beyond that, didn’t seem to hold any consistent height or weight, and shards of light seemed to float over an almost shimmering shadow that made up his base form. He shifted without actively shifting, as if Gordon kept tricking himself into seeing something that wasn’t there at all.

“Who are you?” Gordon asked.

>I'm the player.

Gordon’s eyes widened, breath hitching in his throat.

>It's okay! I'm not trying to pull anything, here. I'm just sorta out of options, now. I need you all to be caught up to speed on what's going on if you wanna be safe from G-Man.

“Yeah, what the fuck is his deal? Why did he kidnap us?”

>To be honest, I'm not really sure. He's sort of learned how to have some narrative control in a similar way I hold, but with limitations. Up to this point, he was picking you guys off to skip to NOW, after Dr. Coomer and Bubby's wedding.

“What makes now so special?”

>Well, Dr. Coomer and Bubby's lives up to this point were already sorta laid out. It was, like...a test run after a test run. When I pulled back again about a month ago to start running through the others' stories, G-Man achieved a new sort of self-awareness, and started fucking around with things. He's trying to do something fucked up to your world.

“...A month ago? We’ve been out of the game for a year now.”

>Yeah, from YOUR perspective. Time doesn't work the same for you as it does for me. I've been at this, like, almost nonstop, day in, day out.

“So...” Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, first of all, my voice is bugging me. Is there any way I can be, like, changed back to my future self? I wasn’t on T for very long before G-Man fucking kidnapped me.”

>Oh! Yeah, sorry about that.

Gordon felt his body _snap_ back into place, for better and for worse simultaneously. He was back in his wedding suit, now, as far along in his transition as he had been at the wedding, but that flu-like exhaustion returned with a vengeance, along with an ache in his knees.

“Jesus. I feel like I just aged 30 fucking years.” Gordon murmured, at least comforted by the sound of his own true voice.

>Yeah, you've like, got problems, dude. I've been trying to nudge you into seeing a doctor, but you never did.

“Is this like, some sort of thing where our connection is slowly killing me? Is this like E.T.?”

>No! You're fine! I think it's just fibromyalgia or something like that. Excessive fatigue, all that pain, a bunch of other stuff, particularly with stress...I'm no doctor, though. Also, was that really what happened in E.T.? I mean, it wasn't their connection itself that was the problem, it was the government scientists doing tests or something, right?

“Oh. I mean, I don’t know.”

>That movie was so weird. Like, I don't know, something about his design always got me. His head doesn't seem like it was the optimal design choice for an alien, right? It's just, why--pffffhahahaha! Oh god, sorry, I just looked it up for reference and whenever I see him in the blanket, it fucking kills me. I don't know why, it just--

“Dude, hey, I think we have more pressing matters.” Gordon said.

>Right, right, sorry.

“Just a sec, though. Can you like... _talk_ to me? Normally?” Gordon asked, pressing his fingers to his temples. “Listening to you like this is super weird.”

>I don't have a mouth.

“Oh.”

>does this make it easier to differentiate? makes it easier on ME, if i'm gonna be here a while explaining things to you. which is fine, but y'know, again, i've been at this for a while.

“Kinda? I have no idea _how,_ but...sort of, yeah.”

>cool. so, like, we kinda need to think up a game plan here to stop g-man. technically, all deaths in the way your world is now are "permanent", in a sense. you won't respawn automatically, at least. so theoretically, he can be killed, unless he's like, immortal. i don't really know for sure.

“You’re the player, though. Why don’t you just...look it up?”

>ehhh, trust me, it's complicated. this isn't really, like, as much of a video game as it used to be. your existence is super different now than the "canonical" plan, so it's not like there's a walkthrough or a wiki page for your current lives. plus, i can look up g-man all i want, but he's still pretty ambiguous in the games after hl1. valve doesn't really make games too much anymore. i mean, they leave off on some massive cliffhanger in hl2e2, then take 13 years to make a game that just like, changes things up before the next part of the plot that we've been waiting for years to see?! i love half life: alyx and all for a lot of reasons, the graphics were incredible and i love alyx and eli, but it's fucking vr, so it's not even accessible to most people who have been waiting for the next game! but the GOOD news is, hl:a shows that at least g-man can be contained. the only issue with that is, he was contained with combine technology, and that's gonna be really hard to pull off if there's no combine on earth. which, trust me, is for the best. we may have to pull something convoluted. i've been working on it a little bit, trying to figure out how i could nudge things around to get combine technology on earth with no combine, but in THIS universe, i managed to contain the portal storms so--

“What are you talking about?”

>oh, sorry. i just like half life a lot.

“So...if this isn’t a video game, what is it? Are you in the real world?”

>one, it's complicated. two, no, not in the way you're thinking.

“Where are you, then?”

>it's sort of hard to explain. i'm, like...so...imagine reality has layers. picture THREE layers.

“...Okay?”

>you're in the first layer, in the center. there's a reality outside of that as well, surrounding yours--you're like, in a...globe. like a snowglobe, with a two-way mirror. the people in the world just outside yours, in the second layer, can see into your world, but you can't see them. you with me so far?

Gordon didn’t respond.

>the third layer has the same principle. that's where i live. i can see into the two layers below my own, but the people in your world and the people in the world sandwiched between yours and mine can't see my world freely, as i can you guys.

“You’re sorta losing me here.”

>fuck. sorry. i have trouble describing this. so--layers can only see DOWNWARD, and you're dead center, so you can only perceive what's in your own reality. i mean, technically, you even have a layer within your own world, too, there's not necessarily just three--like, you can watch invitation to love, for example. you can see everything going on with the characters and everything, but they can't see you.

“But someone _writes_ Invitation to Love! That’s not, like, a full reality on its own, it’s a script and actors and cameras.”

>yeah, sure, but through the action of creation, they still exist. that's sort of the whole deal with you guys, too. through my act of crafting your universe--with conditions and limitations, i have to have safeguards in place so it makes sense and remains viable--and making it observable to those in the second layer, you guys technically "exist". you've known it's not strictly REAL this whole time, i'm just laying out exactly what makes it that way.

Gordon sank down to the floor, burying his face in his hands.

>...you okay?

“I...no? Yes? Maybe?” Gordon said, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his temples. “This is a lot to take in.”

>yeah. sorry about that.

“So—were you controlling me this whole time?”

>no, not any more or less than the others. i can nudge you guys around a little bit if i really have to, give you gut feelings or random thoughts, but what you choose to do with it is always up to you. and i don't really like to do that anyway unless it's something super important. as for the game, i WAS controlling you then--you were sort of a blank slate right when the game started up. that was all me roleplaying at first, but like, you sort of took a life of your own. so we're pretty alike! :) but you ended up being so, like, solidified as your own person, i don't think i could take full control again like i used to be able to, anymore. i wouldn't even really want that, but...i hope it helps to know i can't. i know you were worried about that.

“...I have a weird question.”

>yeah, shoot.

“You know how, like...umm...this is hard to explain.”

Gordon sighed in frustration, trying to piece together the concept in his head. He pictured characters in two copies of the same game, functionally indistinguishable from each other, but still existing in entirely different disks.

>oh! like animal crossing. how, like, you have tom nook and isabelle and everyone on your island, right? they're all telling you you're best friends and they KNOW you. then you go to someone else's island, and you see all those same hard-set npcs, but they act like they don't know you.

“...I think that’s some version of Animal Crossing I haven’t been able to play, but yeah.”

>oh, yeah, you're in 2005, i'm in 2020. don't worry about it.

“Are _we_ like that? Is this how...what did you call it, Half Life?”

>yeah.

“I just—I get the impression Half Life wasn’t supposed to be like that. Are there different versions of us? If I was so influenced by you, are there other Gordons out there, totally different from me?”

>one, your version of half life was totally unique. that resulted from me fucking around with a copy i managed to recreate for myself. see, the third layer is like...well, let's get this out of the way: i'm not human.

“Oh.”

>in the third layer, i have a sort of power and influence over things in the lower layers, to certain extents. i can reach out to the second layer, make things from the center visible to them. but i have the most control over the center layer, YOUR layer. uhh--what were we talking about before?

“Half Life? Animal Crossing?”

>oh right. so anyways, one, there's no version of half life that exists like your version, because i was able to peek into the second layer, get some of the stuff i needed to make half life for myself so i could actually play it, and then i was able to sorta use my..."power", i guess, to make you guys self-aware. well, i only intended to make the others self aware, but like i said, you took on a life of your own. they all did, really--when i say "self aware", i mean, like...i didn't intend it to that extent. i wanted to sort of...bring them to life, in a sense, and then dr. coomer and the others all suddenly began recognizing that it wasn't real. which i never intended for. i never wanted the illusion to break, but i mean, i guess that's kinda what i get for fucking around with a video game like that. my..."peers", i guess you could call them, rarely ever have this problem because they never went to the lengths that i did with human shit. but i just like humans and the stuff they make! sue me.

Gordon didn’t reply.

>uhhh, i guess i'm rambling again, sorry. i rarely actually have anyone to talk to, so once i get the chance, i sorta have a tendency to like, not stop. anyway, so...no, all your friends are the only versions of themselves that exist, technically speaking. well, they used the same models as canon half life characters, but they're not really like them pretty much at all, they've even got different names. but two, yes, there's other versions of YOU, because you're the canonical player character of half life. but that's a whole different story that could take forever to get into--a couple different stories, actually, lol.

“So then, uhhh...what about...my ‘backstory’?” Gordon asked, looking back towards Joshua. Darnold was hugging Joshua tight, talking to him with a deep look of relief on his face. Gordon turned back to the player. “Was that all what the...‘canonical’ Gordon went through, too? How come it took so long for me to remember?”

>well...i sorta got into this with darnold before you all got here, but...i was trying to give EVERYONE backstories. but i hit, like, a limitation with darnold's, because his story took place outside of black mesa. i hadn't really gotten good at building outside of black mesa yet, i hadn't updated my hardware yet to handle building a world outside of black mesa either aside from that concert scene with bubby/dr. coomer, etc etc. THAT worked just fine because they had a predetermined path that they didn't stray from, whereas darnold was like, trying to live a whole life. so it ended up being REALLY fucked up. after i fucked up with darnold, like, OBVIOUSLY i didn't want the same to happen with you. so i had to stop for a while on that, let things build up naturally a little bit outside of black mesa before i could give you your backstory. i had to spend a little extra time cooking it, y'know? and i guess i WILL admit i...took some...inspiration with barnaby.

“...Inspiration...?”

>uhhh well, it's not anything you have to worry about, the guy i took inspiration from isn't someone you're ever gonna meet anyway. it's fine.

“So...you said you’re making this ‘visible’ to people in the...‘second layer’?”

>yeah. uhh, sorry you had to find out this way. but people can see you. they've been seeing you this whole time.

“...Oh.”

>...do you have any more questions? i can explain more shit to you if you need.

“I, like...need to process all of this.” Gordon said, pulling himself up to his feet. “Can everything, like, wait a few minutes?”

>yeah sure, i think so. i really thought g-man was gonna follow bubby and darnold in here, but he didn't for some reason? i think he missed his opportunity entirely. he might be one step ahead of us in SOME way, but for now, let's just take our time and get our bearings.

Gordon started to turn back to his friends, pausing and looking back at me almost immediately after he took his first step.

“Can you...uhhh...get out of my head while I think about this, man? No offense.”

>oh. right, yeah, sure. i'll switch over to someone else.

****

Benry was still laying face-down on the ground as Gordon approached the group again, sitting down cross-legged and getting ready to explain everything he’d just heard from the other Gordon. Something about layers and video games or whatever, Benry wasn’t paying attention. He pushed himself up, swaying as he approached me to flop down onto his side in front of me.

“Yo.” Benry greeted.

>oh, dude, are you still drunk?

“Yeah, man, been stuck like this for fucking forever. I guess Gary man’s place doesn’t let that shit come out.”

>oh that's so miserable. here, let me snap you back to your current self.

Sure enough, Benry felt a _snap_ , and the sick feeling in his stomach was gone in an instant. He sighed in relief, sitting up to face me.

“So, what now?”

>uhhh...good question. i was telling everything to gordon, and i was hoping we could come up with a plan to stop g-man, but he needs a few minutes to process everything.

Benry looked back towards Gordon. He was gesticulating wildly as he lengthily relayed everything I had just told him to the group, everyone getting equally confused and concerned.

“Hey, is Gordon actually your name?” Benry asked suddenly.

>...no, but i don't actually have a name anyway, so y'know. i do like the sound of it, and i like being called by he/him pronouns, but i guess i probably shouldn't steal gordon's name.

“Nothing saying two people can’t have the same name.”

>i guess. but it'd get confusing. i'll think of something later. for now you can just call me the player.

“So...do you _have_ to be here? Are you stuck in this void?”

>nahh, i'm not even technically HERE. this is just the easiest place for me to manifest something almost physical for you guys to interact with. it's sorta where i set up shop to do my work. i can't leave and go to a different map for like, a couple of reasons, though--one, it'd be hard to manifest this inside a map. i guess technically i could do it old school and just make a lil npc for me to puppet, but like, the way things are now, that's actually not quite so easy--plus, i'm busy working on your whole existence, i don't really have time to play around. two, while i may not be here technically speaking, shit could still get really bad if i get hurt in here. it's...complicated. sort of a 'die in the video game, die in real life' type of situation. except i can't die permanently, of course, but like, you know.

“Is this your job?”

>no, not really. i mean--technically, i guess, in like...an ecological sense. like how a spider's job is to like...i don't know, make little webs and eat flies or whatever. i don't get PAID for this, there's no money where i live, anyway. but i REALLY do it because you guys are my friends.

“You said you didn’t wanna be friends, though, right before Gary man grabbed me.”

>well, i never said THAT. i just said that you'd be better off spending your time with the others. i'm not like you. i have power over your world, i can see into your head, i orchestrate everything that helps you live comfortably and grow, because i want to see you guys living happy and healthy lives. i don't think it's a good idea for us to interact like this as friends in the same capacity as the others, you know? there's like...a power dynamic in that, i guess.

Benry shrugged. “That’s not a big deal to me.”

>i know. but it is to ME. i care about you guys a lot, and i don't want it t

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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	33. REPORT: Regarding employee G.Freeman's arrival in City 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmk if g-man's text is too hard to read btw!! text is hell

>My most sincere apologies for the interruption. I realize you all must have been invested in the way the "Science Team" and company were living; however, it was not the true way events were meant to unfold after the resonance cascade. I am merely here to set things

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>Apologies again. There may be glitches here and there as I learn how to utilize this program.

>As I was saying, I am merely trying to set things back on track. After all, I'm sure many of you know, this is not the world Gordon Freeman was meant to step into after the resonance cascade. The resonance cascade's effects impacted the entire world; the Border World--the planet Gordon and his friends destroyed Benry on--provided a gateway between dimensions, allowing a terrible force known as the Combine to occupy Earth after engaging humanity in the Seven Hour War. Of course, the effects the war had on Earth were most regrettable. However, a war is not without sacrifice. I cannot play my role in my employers' eventual destruction of the Combine if the Combine never made it to Earth. It may have been safe here, but that does not account for the future atrocities committed by the Combine to other worlds; I assure you all, while this may look to be harsh treatment, my work is absolutely vital.

>Now, enough time has been wasted. I am most eager to get back to work. Let's start with Gordon Freeman, as it was always meant to be.

>Wake up, Mr. Freeman. Wake up and smell the ashes._

****

Gordon opened his eyes, gasping for air as he jolted up in an unfamiliar seat. Looking around wildly, he found himself on a train; several other people were there, all wearing the same blue uniform. Looking down as he stumbled to his feet, he found with a start he was wearing the same clothes, and his hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Not only that, but he could see _clearer,_ he realized—he reached up to his face, finding a pair of glasses sat on his nose.

What had happened? He wondered. Where had he been last, right before this train? And how long had he been needing glasses?

Something horrible had happened. His friends were all there, in a place they had deemed safe. He had been given world-changing revelations about their reality, by...

The player.

A vague memory came back to him. They had been sitting in the void the player resided in, certain they were okay for the moment to take stock of the situation. The player had been talking to Benry as Gordon relayed everything back to his friends; he’d heard a loud sound, turned around, and everything had faded away.

Now he was here.

“H-...hello?” Gordon questioned, earning the brief, begrudging attention of the other train passengers before they turned back to miserably staring off into space.

Gordon looked out the window. Wherever he was, he didn’t appear to be in New Mexico, anymore. He approached the closest passenger, patting her shoulder to get her attention.

“Hey, where’s this train going?” He asked.

“City 17.” She answered, voice ragged. “I sure hope you didn’t get on the wrong train.”

“Uhhhh...” Gordon paused. “City 17?”

Gordon didn’t get an answer. The train ground to a stop, and the passenger ignored him, ambling out onto the platform with the other passengers. Gordon stepped off as well, faced by a massive screen to his left with the face of someone familiar.

“Dr. Breen?” Gordon asked himself quietly.

Dr. Breen was currently giving some speech about how safe “City 17” was, something about benefactors and a Citadel—Gordon’s attention was quickly drawn away, though, by what seemed to be heavily armed security guards wearing masks. They pushed other people around harshly, herding them forward like cattle. Eyeing their tasers anxiously, Gordon fell into step with the others, following them through what seemed to be some sort of security check.

“What the hell is this?” Gordon murmured to himself nervously. “Where the fuck am I? What’s City 17? Where’s everyone else??”

One of the masked guards looked to Gordon as he arrived at the front of the line, stepping in front of the entryway leading to a plaza that everyone else had been going through. Gordon stepped forward anxiously.

“Umm—a-am I being held up here?” Gordon asked cautiously.

“Step out of line.” The guard replied, waving him aside.

“Listen, man, I just woke up on the train, I have no idea—” Gordon started to say, but the guard stepped closer, holding his taser up menacingly as he backed Gordon through an entrance to the left.

“I-I don’t know what’s going on!” Gordon said defensively. “I didn’t mean to come here, I swear, I have _no_ idea how I got here.”

A door marked “Security” beside the guard swung open, revealing yet another guard. “You, citizen. Come with me.” He said, urging Gordon to follow. Gordon sheepishly followed, the door slamming shut behind him. He chewed his lip anxiously, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he was led down a long hall with a couple other doors. Soon, he was ushered into one of the last rooms with yet another guard. The guard escorting him and the guard inside the room exchanged a couple words before he was closed in alone with the second guard.

“Uhhh—bro, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here.” Gordon started, staring down fearfully at a splotch of blood on the floor in front of a rusty chair with heavy restraints. “I’m sorry I like—well, I don’t even know _what_ I did wrong, but this is—”

“What?” The guard interrupted.

“I don’t...I don’t know where this is or why I’m here. I’m sorry, man, I just—I woke up on the train, and I honest to God don’t know what’s happening.”

The guard stared at him for a long, silent moment before puffing out his chest. “Sit down, citizen.” He said, indicating to the chair behind Gordon.

Hesitantly, Gordon sat down right on the edge of it, ready to spring back out of it at a moment’s notice. The guard turned to a strange computer console behind him, typing a command into it.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need me some privacy for this.” He said, putting his hands on his hips once he was done.

Two devices that seemed to be cameras in the corners of the room drew back up in to the ceiling. Gordon was looking around frantically for anything he could use as a weapon when the guard turned back around, putting his hands up to his mask and prying it off. Gordon’s eyes widened at the sight of another familiar face.

“ _Barnaby?_ ” Gordon gasped, standing up.

“...Well, you _almost_ got it.” He replied hesitantly. “You...aren’t Gordon Freeman. Are you?”

“What? Yes, I am.” Gordon replied, tilting his head curiously at Barnaby.

“Well, since when did you _talk?_ ” Barnaby questioned. “And...well, I thought I recognized you, but...I think I got the wrong guy. I really could’a sworn you were...”

Barnaby trailed off, running his hand through his hair. He looked so strangely disappointed. Gordon took a tentative step forward.

“Dude, I _am_ Gordon.” Gordon insisted. “Where the hell are we? Last I saw of you, you were still in Seattle on your honeymoon with your partner.”

“...Now, I don’t know about all that.” Barnaby said, furrowing his brow at Gordon. “You seem confused. My name’s _Barney._ And Seattle hasn’t existed in a long, long time. Also, I’m not...really...seeing anyone.”

“What?” Gordon questioned, looking Barney over carefully. He really looked _exactly_ like Barnaby, but there was something... _different_ about him. Existentially, maybe? He thought, though the thought didn’t make much sense to him. “I was in Seattle, like, a month ago.”

“Pshh. Try _twenty years_ ago.” Barney scoffed. “You _sure_ you’re Gordon Freeman?”

“As sure as I’ll ever be, yeah.”

“...Well, I guess a lot can change in twenty years, huh?” Barney said, looking Gordon over again. “I mean, you _look_ the same as I remember you. Longer hair, sure, and the arm and all...but other than that, same ol’ Gordon. Maybe you’re dealing with some sorta...memory loss?”

“I... _really_ don’t think so.” Gordon replied as Barney turned back to the computer console. “I mean— _sure,_ that happens to me sometimes, but I think that was because—”

“Sorry to cut you off here, Gordon, but we don’t have a whole lotta time. We can get this sorted out later.” Barney said, eyeing the door Gordon had entered through before typing in a command.

Gordon looked up at the screen as it changed to a camera view of someone’s lab.

“Yes, Barney, what is it?” A somewhat familiar voice asked. At first, when an old man stepped in front of the camera, Gordon’s gut reaction was to think it was Bubby—but he looked just different enough to stop Gordon from blurting his name out impulsively. “I’m in the middle of a critical test.”

“Sorry, Doc, but...look who’s here.” Barney replied, stepping aside for the man to look at Gordon.

“Great Scott!” The old man exclaimed. Yeah, Bubby would probably never say that, Gordon couldn’t help but think. “Gordon Freeman! I...would have expected more warning.”

“I—uhhh, sorry, who are you?” Gordon asked.

The man went into shocked silence, looking towards Barney.

“Yeah. I guess he must’ve hit his head on the way in or something.” Barney said, crossing his arms thoughtfully.

“Well, Barney, what do you intend?”

“I’m thinkin’, I’m thinkin’.”

“Alyx is around here...somewhere.” The man suggested. “She would—”

“Alyx?” Gordon interrupted. “Hey, I know that name!”

“Oh, you remember Alyx?” Barney asked, playful, but with a hint of disappointment in his tone. “Sure, but you don’t remember your old friend?”

“Well—” Gordon tried to start defending himself. He was cut off by a banging on the door.

“Aww, man! That’s what I was afraid of.” Barney said, urgently nudging Gordon towards a back door and pushing it open. “Get in here, Gordon. You should be okay as long as you avoid checkpoints. You gotta make it to Kleiner’s lab on your own, but I’ll meet up with you later.”

Gordon was practically shoved out the door, and it slammed shut behind him. Gordon stood in a dark room, alone, mind racing as he tried to catch up with what the hell just happened.

****

Gordon spent a while walking through City 17—partway trying to find Kleiner’s lab like he’d been told by Barney, partway searching for his friends. This city looked decidedly not American; the architecture and street layout looked sort of European, he thought. Those masked cops were everywhere, too, very nearly outnumbering the amount of regular civilians walking around. Strange, flying cameras floated downward and snapped dozens of pictures of him as he walked. Gordon shielded his face from them the best he could whenever they moved in close. He’d almost feel like a celebrity faced against a paparazzi, except if the person being mobbed wasn’t a celebrity at all and just some random guy on the street—confused, and privacy deeply invaded.

As Gordon walked, he started to notice more cameras descending upon him, snapping pictures before floating off. More cops began to appear around him as well, he noted; feeling uneasy, he ducked into a random building, making his way through some apartment hallways. Stopping at a block in the hall imposed by even more cops, Gordon’s only options being to enter someone else’s apartment or backtrack, Gordon froze for a moment in panic.

Someone poked his head out the open door to the apartment, looking meaningfully at Gordon. “Hey! In here.”

Gordon blinked in surprise, glancing between him and a guard stood at the end of the hallway, before following the man inside the apartment.

“Uhh—what’s going on here? Why’re there so many cops?” Gordon asked as he followed the man through a very bare-bones looking apartment.

“That’s _civil protection._ They’re starting to get suspicious of you.” He replied, pointing Gordon to a door out to another hallway. “Keep going that way, get up to the roof.”

“ _Me?_ ” Gordon questioned. “Why me?”

“No time! Keep going.” He insisted, pushing Gordon forward.

Gordon continued down the hall, heart beginning to race. He was ushered through some strange routes, but eventually, he ended up in another small hallway alone. Glancing between two doors to either side of him, Gordon picked one at random. About halfway to one of the doors, it slammed open, revealing two cops heading in with tasers in hand.

“Oh, fuck!” Gordon exclaimed, turning back to the other door. That one slammed open, too, pinning him in the hall between two groups of cops. “H-hold on! What do you want with me?”

Gordon felt a sharp, hot pain in his side, every muscle in his body clenching involuntarily. He dropped to the ground in an instant, vision blurred as his body recovered; he felt an intense spike of nausea as his arms were wrenched behind him. It was familiar—far too familiar. He could almost hear the sounds of his friends again, just like before in Black Mesa; but before he could get too caught up in the memory, another voice shocked him out of it.

“Over here!”

Gordon’s arms were released, and while he couldn’t see what was going on—his eyes were still struggling to focus, and he couldn’t quite move his neck—he could hear the sounds of a fight. By the time it was over, Gordon finally found it in himself to move, pushing himself up to look at who he _hoped_ his rescuer was.

She didn’t look like anyone he already knew. She was wearing regular clothes, unlike everyone else—jeans, a Black Mesa hoodie, and a brown jacket held together on one arm with duct tape. She held out a hand towards him, which Gordon accepted, letting her help him back up to his feet with surprising strength.

“Dr. Freeman, I presume?” She asked.

“...Yeah.” Gordon replied. “What the fuck is going on? Why are those cops looking for me?”

She opened her mouth to reply, stopping as an alarm began to sound outside. She frowned, nodding for Gordon to follow. “We’ll explain everything later. We gotta get going.” She replied. “The Combine can be slow to wake, but once they’re up, you don’t wanna get in their way.”

 _Combine?_ That was a familiar word, Gordon couldn’t help but think. She led him through one of the doors to a freight elevator, Gordon moving stiffly behind her. He massaged his sore muscles, leaning back on one of the walls of the elevator once they were in.

“Uhh—so, what’s your name?” Gordon asked.

“I’m Alyx Vance.” She said, leaning back against one of the walls herself with her arms crossed. “My father worked with you back in Black Mesa. I’m sure you don’t remember me, though.”

“Uhhh...I heard about you, sort of.” Gordon recalled. “...Who...was your dad?”

“Eli Vance?” Alyx answered as the elevator stopped, gates opening automatically. “Kleiner said you were having memory issues...”

Gordon sucked in air through his teeth as he followed Alyx off the elevator. “I wouldn’t say _that._ I’d say my memory’s perfectly fine, other than the fact that I have no idea how I got here. I never worked with an Eli Vance.”

“...Huh.” Alyx said as she took Gordon around a corner, nodding to a massive poster on the wall that proudly displayed a portrait of Dr. Breen. “How ‘bout _him?_ You remember Dr. Breen?”

“Yeah, sorta. I never met him in person, though.” Gordon replied thoughtfully as Alyx turned to a power box just to the right of the portrait. “What’s his deal? Why’s he on all those screens talking about...uhhh...man, I wasn’t really paying attention, I already forgot.”

Alyx laughed as a secret passageway opened up, revealing a long hallway she led Gordon through. “Have you forgotten _everything_ , or have you just been under a rock this whole time? He’s the Administrator of Earth, now. He’s really just the Combine’s puppet, though. Don’t get my dad started on _him._ ”

“Administrator of Earth?” Gordon echoed.

“Yup. Ever since the Seven Hour War.” Alyx said, stopping at a soda machine and sticking a coin in. Gordon watched her press a few buttons in what seemed to be a specific order before hitting it a couple times, and the machine opened like a door, leading into a lab. She paused before heading inside, turning to look back at Gordon. “Hey. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Uhh...yeah, nice to meet you too.” Gordon replied uncertainly.

Alyx turned to lead Gordon into the lab, where that Bubby-looking man was crouched over, staring into what appeared to be an old dog crate.

“Lamarr!” He called, worry in his tone. “Where did she get off to...?”

“Uh-oh. Everything alright, Dr. Kleiner?” Alyx asked.

Kleiner bumped his head on the top of the crate in surprise as he tried to withdraw from it, pushing himself up as he looked at Alyx. “Oh, hello, Alyx. Well— _almost_ alright. Lamarr has gotten out of her crate again. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect _Barney_ of trapping, and...”

Kleiner stopped as he turned towards Gordon, eyes widening as he met his eye. “My goodness...! Gordon Freeman!”

“Uhhh, what’s up?” Gordon replied awkwardly.

“Why, I almost thought I imagined it.” Kleiner said, adjusting his glasses on his face. “I suppose I should have anticipated much to change in twenty years. Between you speaking now and your arm, I’m certain you must have fascinating stories of what you’ve been doing, ever since you disappeared from the public.”

Gordon paused, brushing loose hair behind his ear as a lot was finally starting to hit him. Twenty years...? And these people acted like they knew him, and the names Alyx and Eli were mentioned by the player when he was talking about Half Life...

“No fucking way.” Gordon breathed suddenly.

“...What is it, Gordon?” Alyx asked.

“Am I in the fucking sequel?” Gordon demanded, as if they’d have any idea what he was talking about. “Am I in another video game??”

Alyx and Kleiner exchanged a confused look.

“No, no, I don’t...it doesn’t _feel_ like I am.” Gordon went on before they could ask him pressing questions, looking down at his hands. He flexed his fingers on his left hand carefully, moving them independently of each other. He looked back up at Alyx and Kleiner. “Listen, have you guys...seen anyone else who seemed just as confused as me? A little kid about 3 years old, was probably wearing a suit with a bright orange bowtie, old guy who kinda looks like you, Kleiner, a short guy who usually wears a hunter hat and a hoodie and can sing orbs, another old guy with a mustache who has cybernetic arms and legs—”

“Well? Is he here?” Barney’s voice called from behind him.

Gordon turned, watching Barney close the soda machine door behind him before entering. When Barney and Gordon’s eyes locked, Barney’s shoulders drooped a little in relief.

“There you are.” Barney said, stepping further into the lab. “Man, Gordon, you stirred up the hive.”

“Uhh—listen, it’s really nice to meet you guys, and I’m sure you think you know me and all, but...” Gordon bit his lip, fiddling with the zipper on his shirt. “I think I’m a different version of the Gordon you all know. I’m Gordon, but—like—not _the_ Gordon.”

Barney fixed him with a confused look, putting his hands on his hips. “...Yeah, something about you _does_ seem pretty off, but how’s that possible?”

“I’m barely keeping up myself, I don’t know.” Gordon replied with a shrug.

“An alternate version of Gordon Freeman...” Kleiner muttered in fascination, looking Gordon over carefully. “What was your world like, Dr. Freeman? How did you get here?”

“Well, I guess for starters, there was no...war that resulted in something like _this,_ and Dr. Breen never became the Administrator of Earth. From my perspective, he kinda just fucked off after the resonance cascade.” Gordon explained, twirling his hair around his finger as he thought. “There was something about, like, _layers of reality._ ”

“Do you mean multiverse theory?” Kleiner asked curiously.

“I...guess? Maybe?” Gordon said uncertainly. “It was like—uhhh, it was complicated. But I mean, I think things got really fucked up. I’m sort of aware of the fact that, like, this world...‘exists’ _._ Kind of. I barely got it myself. But I don’t think I was ever meant to come here. I need to find out if my family’s here, too, and how I can make it back home.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re here for a reason?” Alyx suggested. “Actually, you had perfect timing. We’ve been sneaking people out of the city through these old canals, to somewhere safer. If everything people say about you and the resonance cascade is true, we could really use your help.”

“Uhhh...what do they say about me and the resonance cascade?”

“Well, we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you!” Kleiner answered enthusiastically. “The effects the resonance cascade had on the world were...tragic, and irreversible. Portal storms swept the entire planet, unleashing aliens enslaved by an impossibly powerful being all around the world. Thanks to you, though, that powerful being was defeated before it could do any more damage to our home.”

“...That...doesn’t sound all that familiar.” Gordon said, going back to fiddling with his zipper thoughtfully. “I mean, I had to fight a bunch of aliens, and then I had to go to an alien planet, but the ‘powerful being’ I fought was just my friend. I mean—we weren’t friends at the time, I guess, but...it’s complicated. We’re cool now. Mostly.”

“Still sounds like you’re just as capable as the Gordon we know.” Barney said thoughtfully. “We really gotta get this show on the road, though. If we keep you here, it could jeopardize everything we’ve worked for.”

“Fortunately, Gordon’s come at a very opportune time.” Kleiner interjected, turning to his computer. “Alyx has just installed the final piece of our resurrected teleport. Getting you to Eli will be relatively simple.”

“You mean it’s working? For real this time?” Barney asked in awe. “Because...I still have nightmares about that cat.”

“No, no! There’s nothing to be nervous about.” Kleiner said reassuringly.

“What cat?” Alyx questioned, glancing between Barney and Kleiner.

“We’ve made major strides since then.” Kleiner went on, ignoring Alyx as he began fiddling with his computer again. “ _Major_ strides.”

“Well—okay, but—will getting to Eli help me find my family?” Gordon asked.

“Staying here definitely won’t.” Alyx replied. “The Combine’s looking for you, Gordon. If they track you here, they’ll kill you, or worse—”

“Nova Prospekt.” Barney interrupted with a sigh.

“I’m sure my dad will be able to help you out.” Alyx added hopefully. “If you got here, surely, there’s a way to get you back, right?”

Gordon nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay. Uhh—thanks, guys.”

“Doc, since he’s not taking the streets, you might as well get him out of his civies.” Barney suggested.

“What? Oh dear, you’re right. I almost forgot.” Kleiner said, turning his attention away from his computer to look at Barney again. “Barney, I’ll give _you_ the honor.”

“I’ve gotta get back on my shift, but okay.” Barney said in mock defeat, nodding for Gordon to follow him to a big rolling overhead door at the back of the room. He pressed a button to the side of it, opening the door and stepping inside.

It was dark in the little room, making it hard to see, but Gordon could see the vague shape of a large container inside with a little screen off to the side. Barney stood in front of the screen, pressing a button to flick on the light. “Here we go!” He said.

Gordon glanced up as he heard a hiss, so terrifyingly familiar, it sent a shock of adrenaline through his bloodstream. On top of the container was a headcrab, turning to Barney and launching itself at him with a screech. Barney cried out, catching it in mid-air before it could land on his head and cursing loudly.

“Fuck! Holy shit!” Gordon shrieked, backing up and making a familiar motion with his hand. It did nothing—it never did anything, anymore, but he still did it whenever he panicked, feeling a need for a weapon he didn’t have within reach. Closing his hand into almost a fist and making a clicking motion with his thumb, he expected a crowbar to appear, then gritted his teeth when he remembered that wasn’t going to work.

“Dammit! Get it off me!” Barney shouted, tossing the headcrab to the floor. Gordon pressed himself against the doorway of the room as the heacrab lunged out into the lab, skittering off towards a set of lockers to jump on top of them.

“Lamarr!” Kleiner called in relief. “There you are!”

“Why the _fuck_ do you have one of those things?!” Gordon demanded, heart racing. “You realize how dangerous they are, right? Have you _seen_ what they can do?!”

“Oh, never fear, Gordon. She’s de-beaked and completely harmless.” Kleiner said reassuringly, approaching the lockers and looking up at Lamarr. “The worst she might do is try to...couple...with your head. Fruitlessly.”

Lamarr turned back to Barney, hissing and rearing up like she was getting ready to lunge at him again.

“Get that thing away from me!” Barney snapped.

“Here, my pet. Hop up.” Kleiner called to Lamarr encouragingly, dipping his head down for Lamarr.

Gordon grimaced, stomach twisting. He looked away impulsively, unable to shake the feeling that Kleiner was about to face a grisly death.

“Hey, you alright, Gordon?” Barney asked.

Gordon opened his eyes, looking at Barney. “Y-yeah. Just—oof. I do _not_ care for those things.”

Gordon and Barney turned their attention up to a loud crashing sound above them. Lamarr had leapt up onto a platform above, shuffling through a mess of Kleiner’s belongings.

“No, not up there!” Kleiner exclaimed in frustration. Lamarr lunged at a few of Kleiner’s things, the sound of glass shattering echoing through the lab. “No, no! Careful, Lamarr! Those are quite fragile!”

As Lamarr hopped up to an open vent and crawled in, much to Kleiner’s dismay, Gordon turned to Barney and Alyx. “Umm—sorry to be pushy, but can we like, get moving? I’m worried about my friends and my son.”

“ _Son?_ ” Barney questioned in disbelief.

Gordon pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. Admitting to him he had a son with someone who looked exactly like him would be weird, right? He was getting some _vibes_ from him, like maybe the other version of Gordon meant quite a lot to him, so he decided that was going to have to stay a secret. What was with him and attracting security guards specifically? Gordon wondered to himself. Clearly, Barney was sort of his type, but _still,_ he thought.

“Well, I guess you really are from another universe, huh?” Barney said with a forced laugh, waving his hand dismissively before turning to that back room again. “Well, let’s get you suited up.”

Gordon froze in his tracks as he finally got a look at what he was, apparently, expected to be wearing.

“An _HEV suit?_ ” Gordon demanded, feeling his stomach churning.

“Oh, yes! I’ve made quite a few adjustments, actually. I’ll acquaint you with the essentials...” Kleiner said from the other end of the lab, searching his desk for something.

“Doc, we don’t have time for that.” Barney interrupted. “Everything you’ll need is in there, Gordon. I’ll just close this for you—”

“Hold on!” Gordon blurted out. “I don’t...I’m not sure I wanna wear this thing. Is it really gonna be that dangerous out there that I’ll need it?”

“Well, it couldn’t _hurt._ ” Alyx pointed out.

“What if—listen, last time I put one of those things on, the military used it to track me down and I got my fucking _arm_ cut off.” Gordon told them, holding up his prosthetic arm. “Are those cops gonna be able to track me with it?”

“Oh, no, there’s no reason to fear, Gordon.” Kleiner said confidently. “The suit is no longer trackable. We wouldn’t want the Combine on your tail, either, believe me. If they had a way to find you so easily, you’d be dead in a heartbeat.”

“Way to be reassuring, Dr. Kleiner.” Alyx said playfully before turning to Gordon. “Don’t worry, we’ve been at this for a while. We know what we’re doing. With the price on your head, this is really just the safest option. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Gordon crossed his arms uncomfortably. “...Okay.”

Barney indicated to the button Gordon would need to close the overhead door, and Gordon closed it to give himself the privacy he needed to change into the jumpsuit worn under the HEV suit. He moved with practiced ease, muscle memory kicking in, allowing him to dissociate and still get the suit on easily. Before he knew it, he was dressed up fully. It felt... _right,_ but not in any way that Gordon liked. The way it feels _right_ to leave the house with your backpack, but you still feel sick to your stomach at the idea of going to class. He reluctantly opened the overhead door and stepped out of the room, pushing the unfamiliar glasses up on his face.

“Well, Gordon, I see your HEV suit still fits you like a glove.” Kleiner commented. “At least, the glove parts do.”

“We’d better get moving.” Alyx said, approaching the other end of the lab.

Kleiner and Gordon followed close behind, Kleiner tilting an offset framed photo back to its appropriate place with a _click._ It slipped back out of position after he released it as a panel opened up to his side, revealing an eye scanner. Kleiner scanned his eyes, and the back wall slid open. Gordon peered into the room curiously as the group entered, finding a great number of computers on the wall directly in front of him and up on a platform to the left. Kleiner climbed up to the platform while Barney took his place at the computers in front of them, Alyx leading Gordon over to what he assumed would be the teleporter—it looked like an open construction elevator, with a strange gate closing the front off. Alyx opened it and stepped in, gate sliding shut again behind her.

“Gordon, why don’t you position yourself near the panel over there, and wait for my word?” Kleiner requested, nodding to a panel beside a group of power outlets.

Gordon did as he was asked as another screen blinked to life beside Barney, revealing a man who looked quite a lot like Darnold might look in a couple of decades, wearing an incredibly worn Harvard sweater and a green and tan jacket.

“Isaac? Are you there?” The man asked.

“Yes, yes, Eli, a bit of a holdup on this end. You’ll never guess who made his way into our lab this morning.” Kleiner replied, nodding towards Gordon.

Gordon pressed his lips into a thin line uncomfortably as recognition flashed in Eli’s eyes.

“That’s not who I think it is, is it?” Eli questioned with a playful tone.

“Yes, indeed it is—well, in a sense.” Kleiner answered uncertainly. “It is indeed Gordon Freeman, however...he seems to be an alternate version than the one we’re familiar with. It is our intention to send him packing straight away in the company of your lovely daughter.”

“Are you ready for us, Dad?” Alyx asked.

“We’re all set on this end.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Kleiner began to mutter to himself as he worked, and the platform Alyx stood on raised up. A familiar _whirring_ sound began to reverberate off the walls of the small room, floating sheets of metal surrounding the platform Alyx was on beginning to rotate around her. Alyx may have looked completely confident, but Gordon felt anxiety rising in him by the second. This was going to go terribly, right?

“You gonna let Gordon throw the switch?” Alyx called.

“Gordon, go right ahead.” Kleiner responded.

Gordon looked to the panel next to him. He grimaced, carefully turning the switch over and squeezing his eyes shut, expecting to hear something horrible happening to Alyx. When that familiar whir continued, though, no sign of some horrific mechanical failure, Gordon opened his eyes again.

“Very good.” Kleiner said calmly. “Commencing sequence...now.”

“I can’t look.” Barney groaned, sounding nauseous.

Gordon silently agreed with that sentiment, closing his eyes again. He opened one eye when he heard Alyx laughing uneasily, looking down at herself as a glow began to settle around her. She took deep breaths to steady herself as the glow intensified, until suddenly, she let out a scream.

“Alyx?!” Gordon shouted.

In a flash of light, Alyx disappeared from the platform. The lights in the room flickered as the teleporter began to slowly power down, neither Barney or Kleiner panicking around him. Gordon took a deep breath, looking to the screen Eli had been on. He was turned away from the camera, distracted by something else behind him.

“Well...did it work?” Kleiner called to Eli.

“See for yourself.” Eli responded with a proud smile.

Alyx moved into view of the camera, grinning as she leaned against the desk the camera was set up on. “Hey, Doc!” She greeted before turning to kiss her father on the cheek.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Kleiner sighed in relief.

Gordon let out a deep relieved breath as well, glancing anxiously at the teleporter as the platform lowered back down to ground level. “So...my turn, right?” Gordon asked.

“Right you are!” Kleiner said as Eli gave Gordon a surprised look. “Speak to you again in a few moments.”

The gate to the teleporter reopened, allowing Gordon the space he needed to step in. He entered it tentatively, bouncing on his heels anxiously as it closed behind him.

“Uhh—so, like, it worked for Alyx.” Gordon babbled as the teleporter began to kick into action around him. “That’s great. Fantastic. It’s—it’s _safe,_ right?”

“Of course, Gordon, we’ve very well proven that it’s perfectly safe.” Kleiner replied as he worked.

“Cool. Uhhh, maybe, like, we could...double check the numbers or whatever?” Gordon suggested. He was _really_ getting a bad feeling—if this really was the second game, it couldn’t be this easy, right? The platform began to raise, though, worsening the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Sorry, Gordon, I don’t think we’ve got time for that.” Barney said as he took Gordon’s previous place at the switch. “Trust me, Kleiner’s nothing if not thorough. We’ll get you to Eli’s safe.”

“Yes, Gordon, you’re in good hands.” Kleiner argeed.

Gordon swallowed hard. “Okay.”

Gordon did his best to relax as the metal began spinning around him, just like with Alyx. He was faced with a massive device built into the ceiling, a nozzle trained at the top of the teleporter above him; it didn’t look like technology he was familiar with from Black Mesa, he noted, doing his best to distract himself from his growing fear. The device beamed some sort of light at the teleporter as it powered up around him.

“Good luck out there, Gordon.” Barney said from below with a casual salute.

“Yes, indeed.” Kleiner added. “We’re ready to project you. _Bon voyage._ And...best of luck, in your future endeavors. Final sequence.”

Gordon took a deep breath, then another one, struggling to steady his heart rate. Just when he was beginning to feel okay, two loud _clanks_ sounded to the side in quick succession. Gordon looked with wide eyes at a cord that had previously been connected from the device above him and an outlet in the wall, flopping uselessly down towards the floor. A metal panel from the vent had fallen onto the cord, disconnecting it in one hit—and Lamarr popped out of the new hole in the vent, hissing as she fell on an electrical box below.

“What the hell?!” Barney demanded.

“What is it?” Kleiner called.

“It’s your pet, the freakin’ head hopper!” Barney growled.

“Oh fuck, that’s not gonna fuck with the teleport, is it?!” Gordon shouted, looking to Kleiner desperately.

A series of worrying beeps began to sound from the device above him as Kleiner did his best to beckon Lamarr towards him. Lamarr turned, though, hissing as she looked at Gordon.

“Turn the fucking beam off!” Gordon pleaded.

“Look out!” Barney cried out.

Lamarr leapt towards Gordon, claws outstretched at him. Gordon threw his arms over his head instinctively as he expected impact, but instead, a flash of light surrounded his vision. Gordon screamed as a horrible, overwhelming feeling began to surge through his whole body.

The feeling began to subside just a little bit, the light becoming less overpowering. He opened his eyes, lowering his arms just enough to look at where he was. He was in the middle of the desert, he found, with a crushed car and old abandoned telephone poles. Lamarr was on the ground in front of him, gleefully chasing a flock of crows. Gordon took in a sharp breath as the feeling returned, vision flashing again.

“There he is!” Barney exclaimed.

Gordon found himself in the lab, to his relief, but the device was still at full power.

“Turn it off!” Gordon barked at them.

“Is Lamarr with you?!” Kleiner called desperately.

“Forget about that thing!” Barney retorted.

Gordon’s vision flashed again. In front of him, he saw the vague shape of who he was pretty sure had to be Alyx, stood beside who was likely to be Eli.

“He’s coming through, Dad!” Alyx called.

“What’s going on, Judith?” Eli asked worriedly.

“I’m not sure.” A new voice replied. “It seems to be some kind of interference.

“Gordon! Stay put, we’ll get you out of there!” Eli told him.

“Do I have a choice?” Gordon shouted back.

“Something’s drawing him away!” The new voice said as Gordon’s vision went white again.

Gordon next found himself in a plush looking office, right to the side of an expensive desk. A face he now knew well as Dr. Breen stared back at him, standing abruptly from his chair in surprise.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” Dr. Breen demanded. “Who are—...Gordon Freeman? How did you get in here?”

Gordon didn’t get the chance to reply. His vision flashed, and he found himself in the lab again.

“Hey, he’s back!” Barney exclaimed. “I’m gettin’ him out of there.”

“You can’t just wade into the field, it will peel you apart!”

Gordon found it hard to breathe as Kleiner, Barney, and Alyx talked desperately about getting him out. He clutched at the HEV suit, feeling simultaneously protected and helplessly trapped by it. He teleported back into Eli’s lab, then Dr. Breen’s office, then into a lake. He held his breath, frantically beginning to paddle before he was teleported one more time—just outside a window, where he could see Kleiner from behind.

“Then where is he?” Kleiner questioned.

“Behind you.” Eli replied flatly.

Kleiner turned around, yelping in surprise when he made eye contact with Gordon.

“Shut it down, shut it down!” Eli demanded.

Gordon glanced up to his side, watching as one of those cameras descended towards him. It snapped several pictures as Gordon pressed himself up against the wall beside the window, breathing hard as panic surged through him.

“Gordon! You must get out of here! _Run!_ ” Kleiner called to him.

“Get down outta sight! I’ll come find you!” Barney chimed in.

The blinds inside snapped shut in front of Gordon’s face. Gordon looked around frantically. He was stood on a catwalk—no longer teleporting, at least, but apparently, still in grave danger. Hyperventilating, shielding his face from the cameras, Gordon hopped off the catwalk, landing unsteadily on his feet. He ran blindly, pushing through a door and slamming it shut behind him, only stopping once he could no longer hear the chirping and snapping of the cameras following him. He pressed his back up against a wall, trying desperately to catch his breath.

Above him, Gordon heard a door open. He backed up frantically, looking at the balcony of the building he’d been resting against—expecting to find someone with a gun, ready to shoot him. Instead, Gordon relaxed significantly at the sight of Barney. He leaned against the railing, waving towards him.

“Hey, Gordon!” Barney greeted. He nodded towards a structure off in the distance. “The Citadel’s on full alert, I’ve never seen it lit up like that.”

Gordon stared at the Citadel. It was _massive,_ extending up into the clouds above. It was totally black, sharp edges carved into it in a form of architecture Gordon had never seen before. Attached to it by cables, off to the side and suspended in the air, was a second structure—vaguely rectangular, similar construction to the Citadel.

“Why are they after me?” Gordon asked, voice shaking and hoarse from his still-fading panic attack.

“Well, you’re Gordon Freeman.” Barney replied, as though it was an obvious answer. “There’s all kinds of stories about you—about how you’re probably the only one who could help us take down the Combine.”

Gordon felt about two seconds away from throwing up. He backed up to the opposite wall to Barney, doubling over.

“I just wanna see my son again.” Gordon muttered to himself.

“You’ve gotta get out of City 17 as fast as you can, Gordon. Take the old canals, right? They’ll get you to Eli’s lab.” Barney went on, nodding in the direction Gordon needed to go. “It’s a dangerous route, but there’s a whole network of refugees, and they’ll help you if they can.”

“If it’s dangerous, then—I don’t...I don’t know if I can go on my own.” Gordon admitted, looking up at Barney.

“I’d come with you, but I’ve gotta look after Dr. Kleiner.” Barney replied with a sympathetic look, pointing back towards the door he’d come through. “Oh, and before I forget, I think you dropped this back in Black Mesa—least, your alternate self did. Can’t think of anybody who’ll need it more than you.”

Barney bent down, scooping up a familiar item—a crowbar. Gordon approached as he held it over the railing, holding up a hand to catch it.

“Th...thanks.” Gordon muttered, holding it experimentally in his left hand.

“Good luck out there, buddy.” Barney said, giving Gordon one more salute. “You’re gonna need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof so this is the only chapter that's going to be so blow-by-blow on actual canon hl2 events like this, it just didn't make too much sense to me given the circumstances to change things up Too much, plus it's just. a good intro to the hl2 universe obv for those who might not have played it. thx hl2 fans for bearing with me on this one lol


	34. Nova Prospekt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: there's some animal death in this one, HL canon-compliant to this part of the game though!

LOADING...

Darnold isn’t sure what happened between the void and now. All he knows is, he had been sitting in a circle with all his friends, aside from Benry, who was sitting over by the player. Then he’d heard a loud noise, and now...

Now, he’s sitting on a rotting mattress in a prison cell.

It isn’t locked. The wall has a massive hole in the side, possibly from some previous escape; they couldn’t keep him in here even if they locked it. Darnold stands uneasily, patting himself down to double check he’s all still there. He is, indeed, still in one piece—he’s even still wearing his dress. He probably isn’t specifically being imprisoned, he rationalizes as he pokes his head out of the cell; not that that makes any more sense of the situation, though. No guards are in the hallway, at least, making it easy to tiptoe along, checking his surroundings.

There are no other prisoners here, he notes. It looks almost like it’s been abandoned after some massive attack. He’s probably safe for now.

The _click-clack_ of his shoes echo down the empty halls as Darnold carefully searches for a way out. It would be strange if this place was abandoned, he thinks—the cameras are still working, rotating to watch him go by as he walks past them. He’s probably going to want to get out of here pretty soon. He picks up the pace as he searches for an exit—none of these hallways have legally mandated exit signs, he notes with annoyance—only stopping once he hears a voice on the intercom.

“Alert. Unidentified civilian located in section G.” A voice announces loudly. Darnold holds his breath, looking around himself desperately. “Civilian, please surrender yourself to security immediately.”

Well, this is all a big misunderstanding, Darnold thinks first. He never went out of his way to break in—why would he? On the other hand, he gets the feeling they’re not going to believe him if he tells them he just woke up here. That train of thought is much louder in his head, practically screaming at him, so he follows that instead as he rushes towards what seems to be an abandoned security office. He pushes the door open, stepping inside to get a closer look at what he’s working with; maybe there’ll be a map of some sort, he hopes.

Once inside, he finds several fully functioning security monitors. _And_ the halls they’re trained on aren’t empty. Uniformed guards wearing masks are jogging down the hallways, guns drawn. Darnold’s heart races as he searches the office for anything that could help him, stomach dropping when his eyes land on a gun, still in its case.

There are a couple things to consider here. He has no idea why he’s in a prison—and without any sort of indication he’s _supposed_ to be here, he’ll probably look like an intruder. Would the gun make matters worse, or would it save his life? He wonders. He searches the room more carefully, hands shaking as he pulls drawers open. He needs something to help him leave as soon as possible, or at least—

Oh. Well, that will do.

Darnold had opened one of the bottom drawers, finding a neatly folded guard uniform inside, mask and everything. Do security offices normally just have convenient, unclaimed guns and uniforms laid out inside, door left unlocked? He wonders as he pulls the uniform out. Well, he isn’t going to complain. Shutting the door and shoving himself into a corner, Darnold frantically changes out of his dress and pulls on the uniform with some trouble. If nothing else, this is better than a dress—the uniform is all heavily armored, most likely bullet proof, meaning even if the guards don’t fall for his disguise, he’ll at least have some protection. He pulls the mask on over his face, then moves for the gun, swallowing hard.

He hadn’t needed to fight his way out of Black Mesa. And hopefully, he won’t need to fight his way out of this prison, either; but remembering the amount of bodies he’d seen on his way out of Black Mesa, he decides it’s better to be armed than sorry.

After stuffing the wedding dress away into a drawer and mournfully leaving it behind, Darnold starts down the hallways again, puffing out his chest and doing his best to look confident as he walks, heavy gun in his hands. Soon, he turns a corner, only to be faced with a group of guards jogging down the hall. Most of them pass by without giving Darnold a second glance, but one stops, looking directly at him.

“You. What are you doing?” He demands, voice heavily distorted.

Darnold clears his throat nervously, surprised to find that the mask is distorting his own voice, too. He opens his mouth, doing his best to sound gruff. “I—thought I saw the intruder.”

“Well? Quit messing around, come and help us.” He replies, jogging to catch up with the others. Darnold uncomfortably follows behind him, searching desperately for a good time to break off from the group again. Surely, they’ll notice they have an extra member—especially if they happen to find his dress stuffed away into a drawer of the security office.

They pass the security office entirely, though, one guard only peeking inside before shutting the door and pushing onward. They all have their backs turned to him. He can probably make a break for it now, he thinks as they enter what looks like an abandoned laundry room.

Darnold is hyping himself up to slip away from the group when he feels a rumbling beneath his feet. The others stop as they notice it too, immediately training their guns to the floor. Darnold fumbles to do the same, hands shaking too much to figure out how to operate his gun properly. Soon, the floor caves in beneath one of the guards towards the front of the group. He screams as he goes down, an inhuman _screech_ drowning out some horrific death rattle. Darnold backs up against the wall, pointing his gun in the direction of the hole in the floor as the others begin firing wildly into it. Suddenly, something Darnold can’t quite see past the group of guards pops out of the hole, tackling one to the ground. It’s huge, about waist-height on Darnold—some sort of unnaturally massive bug with wings and sharp legs ending in claws. It screeches as it tears into the guard. Darnold closes his eyes, turning his head away to avoid watching the viscera in front of him.

More of those bugs begin to claw their way out of the hole. The other guards put up a good fight, getting most of them down before something larger crawls out of the hole. It has no wings, but four pointed legs like the other bugs, and begins brutishly attacking the remaining guards. It’s a horrible sight. Darnold’s stomach churns as he watches the guards drop like flies, the massive creature only barely reacting to gunfire. Soon, the last guard goes down, and the creature turns to Darnold.

Darnold fumbles with his gun frantically, hitting some button on the side and receiving a much-too pleasant _beep._ He trains the gun in the creature’s direction, screaming as he begins firing wildly at it. It screeches, apparently getting hit at just the right angle—Darnold keeps firing, only stopping once the creature hits the ground hard, body going limp as blood pools beneath it.

“Oh fuck. Oh, holy shit.” Darnold wheezes, legs collapsing beneath him.

Darnold is alone again, in a room filled with corpses, some of the corpses being unknown alien creatures. Just like Black Mesa all over again, except this time, he’s been forced to take action to save his own life. He drops the gun to the floor, prying his mask off to allow fresh air in.

 _It’s going to be okay,_ some part of his brain tells him. He’s going to find the others. He won’t be alone for long.

Comforted by this thought, Darnold breathes out a deep sigh. That’s right. All he has to do is find his friends, who have far more experience with this sort of thing than he does, and they’ll all be okay. Darnold takes in one last breath of fresh air and latches his mask back on, picking up his gun and standing.

Unfortunately, he’d depleted all of his ammo firing it into the massive beast he’d just killed. That leaves him to spend a few minutes looting the corpses of the guards. He feels sick doing it, but soon, he has a good amount of ammunition for his gun. He’s starting to try and figure out how to reload it when something comes screeching out of the hole again.

Darnold scrambles away, gun still empty, watching as the massive alien bug hops towards the thing Darnold had killed himself, ignoring him entirely. It makes a clicking sound as it investigates the body, sniffing some specific spot on its underbelly. A couple more pop out of the hole, carefully examining the body of the larger creature before leaving entirely, hopping back into the hole and disappearing.

Darnold looks to the corpse left behind. If these things are a consistent problem in this prison, consistent enough for the guards to have their guns drawn the minute they felt the rumbling beneath their feet, he might need to consider how to play it smart with these things. Steeling himself, he pulls himself back up to his feet, shakily approaching the corpse to investigate where the bugs had been sniffing it.

Darnold doesn’t know a lot about bugs, or aliens. But he’s taking a pretty wild guess, based on general logic and some gut instinct forming inside of him, that the bugs were sniffing for pheromones. Surely, there has to be a way he can utilize that, right? He thinks. It’s a strange thought to have—and he feels incredibly out of his depth, trying to figure out how he’d do that—but something tells him he should _really_ stick with this idea. So, after a few minutes spent hyping himself up, he takes a combat knife to the creature’s stomach, gritting his teeth and doing his best to breathe steadily as he opens it up and takes a look inside.

There’s no way to avoid it. It takes a little bit of digging to find what he’s fairly certain he’s looking for. Darnold truly hates every second of it, but soon, he pulls out something small, round, and fleshy, fitting in the palm of his hand. When he squeezes it a little, a small puff of particles disperses from it.

Darnold is starting to stand up when he hears screeching from the hole. Scrambling to his feet and grabbing his gun, he backs away from the hole, watching as a couple of bugs hop out and approach him. Darnold closes his eyes tight, expecting to be mauled, but after a few long, tense seconds, he breathes out. Nothing happens. He opens his eyes again, watching as two other bugs hop out and watch him attentively.

Darnold looks down to the fleshy pod in his hand. He squeezes it again, earning more eager screeches from the bugs.

“You like this?” Darnold asks.

They don’t answer—they _are_ bugs. But as he begins to move down the hall—watching out for the hole in the floor—they skitter behind him, keeping close as he walks. So, as long as he has the pod, he’ll be safe; from the bugs, at least.

Darnold is unspeakably lucky. He manages to get out of the prison walls soon after; though it isn’t just the _inside_ that’s guarded. Strangely enough, the outside is being heavily patrolled by other guards, walking on foot around the perimeter of the prison and standing up in watchtowers above. Sure is a lot of effort to guard an empty building, Darnold thinks. Unless there’s something being kept inside that he simply never saw...?

Well, he isn’t going to stick around and find out. He starts walking confidently along, trying to pretend he’s patrolling as he searches for a way out. He catches the attention of the other guards fast, though, with massive bugs trailing behind him.

“Look out!” One shouts, aiming his gun.

Other guards begin unloading into the bugs, much to Darnold’s dismay. He _really_ should have remembered to find out a way to get them to stay put; he’d just led them right into danger, though. They’re gone in a manner of seconds, other guards approaching to check him over.

“Oh! Thanks.” Darnold says uneasily. “Uhh—I didn’t notice them following me.”

“You know what’s going on inside? Why are we on high alert?” One of the guards asks.

Darnold shrugs. “Someone got inside, somehow...?”

“Attention. Perimeter guards, section 1. Intruder reported to have stolen a uniform. Perform checks of unfamiliar guards outside of their posts.” The voice over the intercom echoes around them.

The guards immediately turn back to Darnold. Darnold grits his teeth.

“Uhhh—wow, can’t believe he stole a uniform, huh?” Darnold tries.

“Take off the mask.” Another one says, lifting his gun and pointing it at Darnold’s chest.

Darnold swallows hard, tightening his grip on his gun in one hand and gripping the fleshy pod in the other. As he squeezes it, more of those particles burst out, and instantly, Darnold can hear screeching nearby. More bugs begin bursting out of the ground beneath them, immediately attacking the guards standing in front of Darnold. Darnold breaks out into a sprint as more bugs come to his rescue, taking out guards that begin shooting at him. The sounds of gunfire and bug screeching overwhelms him as he runs blindly down a hill, leaping over an outcropping of rocks and tumbling to dunes of sand beneath it. More screeching sounds around him, more bugs popping out of the sand and sniffing the air around them. Satisfied by the scent that comes from the pod, they leave Darnold alone.

“He’s down there!” One of the guards calls out.

Darnold scrambles to his feet, struggling to get good traction on the sand as he dodges more gunfire. The guards are much faster than him, having already practiced long-distance running in their heavy uniforms, but Darnold has bugs on his side. He lunges behind a rock and begins fumbling with his gun and the ammo he collected, trying to figure out how to get it in. In a stroke of genius, he plugs a clip into the side of the gun, which beeps at him before spitting the clip back out. Darnold doesn’t know much about guns, but he doesn’t think this is normally how they work. Regardless, he’s faced with a choice, now that he has his gun properly loaded. He can let the bugs handle the guards trying to capture him, constantly getting mowed down before more will pop up to his aid as long as he squeezes the pod, or he can retaliate himself, helping the bugs throwing themselves into danger for him.

Darnold takes a deep breath, forcing himself not to think too hard before standing and stepping out from behind the rock, facing back towards the guards heading his direction. He aims his gun and begins firing, incapacitating a couple before taking off again, rescued bugs in tow. As he runs down the beach, he ends up passing by even more watchtowers—meaning more guards shooting at him from above. Darnold, now wheezing as he struggles to keep a good pace, presses onward, doing his best to clear the watchtower without getting hit.

He _does,_ ultimately, get hit. Darnold falls to the ground as he feels a sharp pain in his side, knocking the wind out of him as he drops. No time to check if the bullet had been stopped, Darnold drags himself to his feet, lunging behind a rock again to catch his breath. The guards will come down the hill for him in a moment, and he’ll be ready, he thinks as he readies his gun. He just can’t run anymore—at least, not for a good few minutes.

Sure enough, another guard pops up around the side of the rock, and Darnold fires wildly at him until he drops. Breathing out a deep sigh mixed with relief and nausea, Darnold prepares himself again.

Above, he can hear the bugs taking care of other guards as another appears around the side, and soon, he has two new clips for his gun. That’s all he’s gonna think, as he doesn’t want to think about the fact that just killed two people.

Once everything falls quiet around him, Darnold breathes out again, taking the opportunity to relax as best as he can. Carefully undoing his vest and lifting up the shirt underneath it, Darnold is able to assess that the vest had stopped the bullet after all—but there’s some nasty bruising where he’d been hit. He clicks the vest back into place and stands, stretching his muscles out a little bit to prepare himself to run again. One of the bugs approaches as he gets himself ready, nudging his leg with its head. Darnold exhales deeply, pulling off his mask and looking down at the bug with a nervous smile before tentatively rubbing its head. This seems to satisfy it, leaning up into his touch contentedly.

“Thanks for your help.” Darnold says to it gently. “Uhhh—lets _both_ try not to die. Okay? I’ll...I’ll try and have your back, as long as you have mine.”

The bug, of course, doesn’t understand any of that. But it feels pretty good to be talking to something, knowing it’s going to help him. He probably wouldn’t survive at all without these bugs. So, he decides, he isn’t going to let more die, if he can help it.

It’s a grueling trek down the beach, walking along safe paths until he comes upon another watchtower and is forced to fight for his life and the lives of the many bugs who come to his rescue. He has to be on the offensive, sneaking up to good points and taking out guards himself with the help of the bugs. As he stands in his third watchtower, tearing off his mask to allow himself to catch his breath, he plops down on the floor, listening to the chatter of abandoned radios.

“Attention, all units.” A familiar voice says from a radio set out on the desk inside the watchtower. Darnold looks up, listening closely as he does his best to place the voice. “This is your administrator. I am reaching out to _all units_ to report the return of one Gordon Freeman.”

Darnold jumps to his feet, approaching the radio to pick it up and put it to his ear.

“He was last spotted in City 17, but we’re going to need all units to pay close attention. Gordon Freeman isn’t just a formidable foe on his own—he is a _symbol_ to the civilians of Earth. As long as he lives, the revolution is going to get stronger, inspired by his presence. We are going to need to be swift in detaining him and making an example out of him. The people _cannot_ find hope in Gordon Freeman.”

Darnold knows this voice. This is Dr. Breen, he realizes, listening as he prattles on about stamping out hope and other similar supervillain-ish sentiments. So, Gordon’s in some place called City 17. He has no idea where City 17 is, or why there’s some sort of revolution; there was no beach like this in New Mexico, let alone alien bugs buried underneath the sand along any coast he knew of.

Something fucked up is going on. He needs to regroup with his friends fast.

Darnold searches the watchtower carefully, finding some sort of GPS device left behind in one of the drawers. He scoops it up, fiddling with it for a few minutes before he’s able to figure it out.

City 17 is quite a ways away. It’ll take _days_ to get there on foot.

Well, if Gordon’s a big inspiration to the “revolution”, Darnold can’t help but think he’ll probably find some friends in them, too, if he can find anywhere they tend to hide out. He pockets the GPS device and starts on his way, new bug friends in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the beach is full of free dogs!!!!


	35. The Citadel

Bubby wakes up somewhere dark and cramped.

The fact that he can’t move or see sends a sharp rush of panic through him. He bares his teeth, clenching his fists and beginning to try and pry himself free. He seems to be in something suspended; whatever it is, as he thrashes around, it begins to swing. He grows nauseous from it in a matter of seconds, but in his panic, he refuses to stop.

“Hey!” He shouts furiously. “ _Hey!!_ Get me the fuck out of here!”

He has no idea if there’s anyone even nearby, but that isn’t going to stop him. He thrashes some more, shouting and cursing as he struggles to free himself. Finally, he quiets down, too exhausted to scream; allowing him to hear something muffled outside of whatever he’s being contained in. An unfamiliar voice, too quiet for him to make out the words.

“What?” Bubby calls out. “Who are you?”

“The human must stop struggling, if they wish to retain their strength...and their sanity.” The voice calls back.

“...Me?”

“Yes.”

Bubby growls, spitefully beginning to struggle again. In his rage and panic, Bubby feels a flash of heat inside him, beginning to manifest on his skin—the flames are immediately suffocated, though, by how closely his restraints encase his entire body. Bubby focuses on it, letting his panic reach a horrible peak; slowly but surely, he can hear the metal around him groaning. Heating it up and struggling hard against it, Bubby finally feels some give when he pushes. Soon, after an exhausting effort, Bubby hears a low _creak,_ followed by a _crack_ —and a door in front of him swings open, allowing him to tumble out of his horrible prison. Bubby falls to the floor in a heap, breathing hard and looking around.

He’s in some dark room, he finds, with sleek, black, metallic walls that stretch seemingly endlessly above him, the only thing in sight above being additional walkways. Bubby drags himself to his feet shakily, looking behind him at what had been restraining him. It’s some sort of black pod, exactly the right size and shape to contain a person—probably previously identical to one directly in front of it on the opposite wall. Green pulses from some sort of cable connected to the one still intact, snaking into the wall behind it.

“Hello?” Bubby calls out.

“What has happened outside of the pod?” That same deep, guttural voice asks from inside.

Bubby circles around the pod, searching for some sort of latch to release it. When he doesn’t find one, he moves on to a strange computer console nearby, putting his hand to his chin as he looks it over. It’s all written in some language he doesn’t recognize. No doubt something alien, he can’t help but think. The thought comes so easily to him, despite being sort of outlandish. Bubby approaches the pod again.

“How do I open this thing?” Bubby calls to the person inside.

“Has the human escaped their pod?” They call back.

“Not human, but yes.”

“Ah. What shall I call you?”

“Bubby.”

“The Bubby must take their leave immediately, if they have escaped.” The voice says urgently. “Escape from the Citadel is unlikely, but there is hope yet. You must seize your freedom and _never_ let go. There is...no hope left for me.”

“What? Shut up and just tell me how to open the fucking pod.”

“...I have been in here for so long, I am no longer certain of how to open it.”

Bubby huffs, turning back to the computer console. “Alright. I’ll see if I can do this the easy way.”

Bubby begins pressing keys experimentally. Some intimidating red words flash across the screen. Bubby hits another button, breath catching in his throat as an alarm begins to sound. Bubby backs away, looking around in panic as he begins to hear radio chatter and heavy footsteps above him.

“Leave!” The voice from within the pod pleads.

Bubby bites his lip, trying to figure out where he would even go when the screen changes in front of him. The sight of a familiar face makes Bubby feel sick to his stomach.

“What is the meaning of—...” Dr. Breen stops, eyes widening. “Bubby? What in the hell are you doing in here?”

“I-I don’t know!” Bubby shouts defensively. “I would’ve thought _you_ did this!”

“I didn’t even know you were still alive these past 20 years!” Dr. Breen replies. He takes a moment to compose himself, brushing off his jacket. “Well, it seems you’ve come at a most opportune time. Certainly, Gordon Freeman will be searching for you...”

Bubby looks to his left, past the pod as footsteps grow closer. Fear overtakes him entirely—without thinking, he begins running down the hall to the right. As he turns a sharp corner on the walkway, his skirt catches on the railing, bringing him to an abrupt stop. Cursing, Bubby whirls around, watching armed guards in what look like strange gas masks and bulletproof vests approach, guns pointed at Bubby.

“Stay back!” Bubby barks as he tears his skirt free from the railing.

“Come with us willingly, or we’ll shoot.” One of them commands, voice strangely distorted behind the mask.

Bubby puts his fingers to his temple, and in a flash, the guards in front of him are in flames. It’s not as clean a death as it was in the game; it’s a lot more like when they were robbing banks, the NPCs programmed to respond specifically to the fire from Benry’s flamethrower in particularly brutal ways. They scream, rolling on the ground as Bubby moves on, not interested in helping them.

Now that Bubby’s alone—for the time being, certainly those wouldn’t be the only guards Breen sent—he finally has a moment to remember the person in the pod. Gritting his teeth, Bubby starts to take a step forward, further away from the pod. He stops, though, gut wrenching with guilt as he tries to move forward.

Is he really going to risk the freedom he spent so long hoping for, all for a stranger?

“God fucking dammit.” Bubby hisses, turning around and hurrying back towards the pod. The guards are dead already, clothes completely singed through—if there’s some sort of keycard situation, he doesn’t think those would’ve survived the fires. He’d tried the easy way; now it’s time for brute force.

Bubby runs at top speed back to the pod, throwing himself against it with all of his weight. The metal it’s suspended from groans and snaps, sending Bubby and the pod toppling to the ground. Bubby begins clawing at it, hyper aware of more footsteps coming their way from both ends. Prying at the seam it opens by and doing his best to melt the metal strategically, the pod begins to creak underneath his efforts before something snaps. Bubby pries the top open like a coffin, revealing the person inside.

The person inside is very well not human, either. He’d come to anticipate that, from the way they referred to him as “the human”—but this is something familiar. It’s one of those aliens they’d been fighting in Black Mesa. Green, gangly and bony, one large red eye in the center of their head with many smaller ones above it, sharp teeth and an extra arm on their stomach; they don’t look _nearly_ as vital as the ones Bubby remembers fighting, though.

The alien opens their many eyes, squinting against what little light there is in the dark corridor. They move a shaking arm upward, then another, struggling to drag themself out of the pod. Bubby looks around them, watching as more guards come to a stop on both ends of the walkway, pinning them in the center of the corridor.

“Come peacefully, Bubby, and my guards will have no reason to hurt you.” Dr. Breen calls from the screen nearby.

Bubby’s arms go up into flames by his sides as he clenches his fists. “No! I’m not fucking scared of you, anymore!”

Bubby, using every ounce of his superhuman strength, begins tearing into the guards. He can’t seem to swipe their guns after they’re dead—maybe he just needs the time to figure one out, but they never fire when he tries to use one. Instead, he resorts to brute force again, taking down the guards in a long, exhausting, painful fight. Soon, he’s killed all the ones in the immediate vicinity, but he hears more well on their way.

“Come on.” Bubby pants, turning back to the alien, who has taken to cowering inside the pod.

“No. I...I will only slow you down.” The alien replies. “Leave me here. Warn my brothers of my whereabouts. My freedom will come with the revolution.”

Bubby growls in frustration, reaching into the pod and dragging them out. They can’t stand on their own, anymore; Bubby wonders just how long they had been trapped in the pod. He has to carry them on his back, which does indeed slow him down significantly.

“Why does the Bubby risk their own freedom for me...?” The alien asks as Bubby drags them down the hall.

“I don’t know! Shut up and let me focus on getting us out.” Bubby snaps. “What should I call you?”

“The closest thing to a name I have is not something you would be able to pronounce.” The alien replies slowly. “We are all connected by the Vortessence. We have an understanding of one another through the links in our minds, rendering titles as you use them meaningless to us. The Bubby may call me what they wish.”

“I’m not gonna think of a name for you on the spot, here.” Bubby says, eyeing the imposing shadows of guards heading down the hall ahead of them. “If you’re all connected, why would I need to warn your ‘brothers’ that you’re here? Shouldn’t they already know?”

“...There is a rare type of brain injury that can sever one’s connection to the Vortessence. I have been disconnected from my brothers for as many years as I have been captive. They do not know I am here.”

Bubby lets the alien slide off his back, dropping them to the floor so he can prepare to fight more guards freely. “Well, with any luck, we should be out of here soon. I’ve done this kind of thing before.”

“...My gratitude for the Bubby’s kindness is immeasurable.”

Fueled almost entirely by his spite towards Dr. Breen, Bubby fights his way through whatever this building is, taking the alien through strange, curving hallways. Soon, Bubby begins to smell fresh air. He squeezes through nearly too-tight gaps in the walls, coming to a stop at a simple opening in the building—not a doorway, more like unprotected slats in the sides of it—revealing a massive gap between it and the world beyond. Bubby looks down into the pit below, stretching for miles and miles. Bubby can’t see the bottom of the pit.

“...An impassible obstacle.” The alien sighs miserably. “My freedom...so short lived...”

Bubby swallows hard, staring down with rising fear into the pit. He looks across the gap to the safe ground ahead, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“I’ve survived worse.” Bubby says, mostly to himself. “Hold on.”

“Surely, the Bubby does not intend to jump.”

“You’ve already seen I’m not human.” Bubby says as he prepares himself. He’s rapidly running out of steam after using his powers so much, but surely, he has just enough juice left to get them over the pit.

Hopefully.

Steeling himself, Bubby uses the remaining strength in his body to leap full-force off the ledge. Both him and the alien scream the whole way over the pit, tumbling over each other onto the safe ground ahead. Breathing hard, Bubby lets himself just lay there on his back, the alien lying still beside him. After several moments, Bubby feels recovered enough to sit up, turning to the alien.

“Are you alright?” Bubby asks them.

The alien doesn’t respond.

Bubby furrows his brow, reaching out and shaking the alien. Their eyes are shut tight.

“Hello? Did I fucking kill you??” Bubby demands, shaking the alien harder.

The alien stirs, much to Bubby’s relief. They open their eyes, only for a moment before closing them against the bright sun above. “Forgive me. I have not experienced such a thrill in quite some time.”

Bubby sighs, standing and scooping the alien up again. “We’d better get moving. I get the feeling those guards are going to find us soon if we stay here.”

Sure enough, Bubby hears more radio chatter, followed by gunfire aimed in their direction. Dirt sprays around them from the impact of bullets; Bubby takes off, running at as full a sprint as he can manage with an alien on his back. Soon, Bubby no longer hears gunfire, and he begins trudging along at a less exhausting pace.

“So—what does Dr. Breen want with Gordon Freeman? Do you know?” Bubby asks the alien.

“Ahh, the Free Man.” The alien sighs fondly. “If the Free Man has returned, then surely, our suffering at the hands of the Combine will soon come to an end.”

Bubby looks around as they seem to be approaching some sort of city. He’s never been to Europe himself—yet—but learned enough about architecture while he was still learning in Black Mesa to know that this seems Europe-ish.

“...Look, Gordon got me and our friends through some insane shit at Black Mesa, but I don’t know what he did to earn a reputation like _that._ ” Bubby says as he continues into the city. “We like, _killed_ a bunch of you, too. Wouldn’t you be pissed about that?”

“Death is not permanent for us vortigaunts.” The alien says. “We were lost, scared, and enslaved by a being acting out of hatred and vengeance. His actions in Black Mesa ultimately released us from its control. There are no vengeful feelings harbored for the Free Man.”

Looking at signs posted around, he sees many of them written in Russian, with some English translations later scrawled on. As Bubby walks down the sidewalk, he begins to see new faces, all staring at him with wide, confused eyes as they walk past. They’re all wearing the same blue uniform; Bubby stands out like a sore thumb, still in his singed wedding clothes and an alien on his back. Bubby looks up as some little chirping device floats down towards him, looking as though it’s investigating him closely. Bubby looks it over curiously, trying to figure out how it’s floating so easily when it begins snapping pictures of him, blinding him momentarily with the flash. Bubby stumbles back in shock, using a free hand to swat it away.

Bubby begins to hear radio chatter again. He looks to his side uneasily, watching a couple of cops in masks draw out what seem to be tasers, looking right his way as they start to approach.

“The Bubby must begin running, if they do not wish for us to be recaptured.” The alien warns.

“Yeah, I got that!” Bubby snaps as he begins sprinting again.

The cops pursue close behind him, even more beginning to appear from street corners.

“Attention. Anti-citizen, please surrender to civil protection.” A voice echoes over the streets.

Other civilians back up against the walls of nearby buildings, watching as Bubby begins trying to figure out which way to go. He finds an alleyway no cops have emerged from and runs for it, almost immediately faced with a fence. Bubby heaves the alien up and tosses them over it, latching onto the fence to climb over it himself. He feels a gloved hand grip his ankle, trying to wrench him down off the fence. Bubby kicks the cop in the mask, taking his opportunity to escape as the cop is left dazed. He lands hard on the ground on the other side, scooping up the alien and continuing on his way. Squeezing through alleys and getting over more fences, Bubby finds a stairway down into what seems to be some old, abandoned underground section of another building. He tears down the stairs and runs until he’s certain he’s found a room the cops won’t find them in, dropping the alien and flopping down onto the ground with a deep sigh.

“The Bubby’s kindness is unmatched. I am eternally grateful for the lengths they have gone to in order to rescue me from the clutches of the Combine.” The alien says, struggling to push themself into a more comfortable position. “Surely, you are simply too _preoccupied_ to be more gentle in releasing me.”

“What, are you being passive aggressive at me?” Bubby accuses. “Fine, I’ll let you down more easy from now on.”

“I would be most appreciative.”

Bubby sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. “...You keep using ‘they’ for me.” He comments.

“Apologies. There are many human conventions I have not had the time to become acquainted with.” The alien says, looking at Bubby with bright red and yellow eyes. “What shall I refer to you as?”

Bubby pauses. “...I think...‘they’ is fine, actually.” They murmur. “I’ve been sort of exploring how I present myself a _little_ bit, but I kept thinking I was too old to go that far. But...fuck it. What about you?”

“Gender and the language associated with it is a new concept to myself and my brothers. We have largely adapted to ‘he’ and ‘him’, as that is what the humans use most commonly for us. Truly, however, I have no preference.”

Bubby shrugs. “Alright. Well...we’re going to have to get out of here _eventually,_ if I’m going to find everyone else. Where do I find your ‘brothers’, then?”

“Unfortunately, I am unaware of the locations of those working in the rebellion. I was confined within that pod for many years; surely, they must have moved by now.”

Bubby sighs deeply, rubbing their eyes underneath their glasses. “...Okay. Well...maybe we’d stand a better chance at night. I need some time to recover my powers, anyway.”

“...There is something I am quite curious about.”

“What?”

“What is your motivation in going to such lengths for my safety, when it actively jeopardizes your own?”

Bubby doesn’t answer for a long moment. Finally, though, they take a deep breath and speak. “Well...being in that pod reminded me of...where I was created. It was horrible, being kept in there and inside Black Mesa for the majority of my life. I...had ‘brothers’, too, in sort of the same, non-conventional understanding of family. They were in the same situation I was in, but...I left them behind. I guess I couldn’t bring myself to do that again to someone else.”

The alien nods slowly. “The Bubby’s shared experience with my own is most regrettable. I am truly saddened to hear of your misery at the hands of the Administrator. However, we have found strength in solidarity. Upon the return to my brothers, I shall see to it you will find great rewards for your kindness.”

Bubby relaxes a little. “...Thanks.”

“Forgive me. I have not experienced anything but the confines of a pod in many years.” The alien says, straining to shift into a slightly more comfortable position. “The excitement of our escape has left me exhausted. If you would be so kind as to watch for danger, I believe I may need to rest while we wait for nightfall.”

Bubby nods. “Sure. Whatever. It’s not like you’d do much good keeping watch, anyway.”

“Your kindness certainly knows no bounds.”

Bubby watches the door, listening closely to the silent hall as the alien closes their eyes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning about me: i fucking LOVE the vortigaunts


	36. The Trail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG CWs: suicide ideation (as clones to voluntarily return to dr. coomer's consciousness), discussion of past partner death

To say Harold is alone wouldn’t be _untrue._ In a technical sense, yes, he is alone.

Physically, however, he’s surrounded by other people. And all of those people are him.

It isn’t nearly as many clones as Black Mesa had produced; that had been around 300 clones. Standing around him, though, are five other Harolds. They all look just as confused and dazed as he feels, as they gather their bearings right in the middle of an empty highway in the mountains. Definitely not New Mexico, he thinks. Putting a hand to his head, Harold steps forward a little, trying to recall what had just happened.

He had been in that strange Mr. Coolatta’s void after being kidnapped by him. He was also at his own wedding—that was all vaguely accounted for. Then he was in a different void, and Gordon had revealed to them that the void belonged to the player.

“What _happened?_ ” One of the clones asks, clutching his chest and looking around. “Oh, god. This can’t be happening.”

“What did the player do to us?!” Another demands, looking down at his hands.

“Now, I’m sure this wasn’t the player’s doing.” Harold says reassuringly. “The player seemed to really care about us. Of course he would, wouldn’t he? He _is_ another form of Gordon, after all.”

“Who else could have done it?” That same one questions, an unfamiliar venomous look on his face that sends a shock through Harold. He’s been angry before in his life, obviously—that’s an unavoidable fact of life. He’s never seen it mirrored back at him like this, though, so unrestrained, as opposed to Harold’s immediate instinct to hide his own frustration.

“Where’s Bubby?” A different one asks, cupping his hands around his mouth to call out into the woods. “Bubby?!”

“Where is _anyone?_ ” Harold adds.

“Why are we all separated?” Yet another one asks, feeling the strange blue uniform they’re all now wearing—all except Harold himself, who is still wearing his suit. “I can’t—I can’t do this again. I want to go back to how it was!”

“I am absolutely _not_ going back.” The angry one declares, turning away from Harold and starting down the highway. “We need to find our way back to the others. _Then_ we can discuss what to do about the player.”

The one looking for Bubby is already heading off into the forest, while another drops onto the road, curling up on himself. Two others begin heading in the opposite direction of the angry one, leaving Harold in the center of a quickly dispersing crowd.

“Now, hold on, everyone!” Harold calls out, taking the hand of the one curled up on the road. Then, he urges the other two to follow him, who exchange a dubious look before turning back towards him to follow. He rushes off into the forest to grab onto the other one, who starts putting up a bit of a fight, but Harold ignores him, dragging him along to follow the angry one down the road. “We all ought to stick together! Who knows what could happen? If we don’t know where the others are, we at least have strength in numbers.”

“You’re right.” The angry one admits. “Then all of you ought to follow me.”

Harold gets the feeling he isn’t going to win an argument with this one, considering he’s currently trying to corral the other four, so he gives in, following close behind him as he stalks down the highway. No cars pass by; in fact, they pass abandoned ones, crushed and dented by some old, unknown threat. It leaves an uneasy feeling in Harold’s stomach. They try to get one working, but it looks like not only had it been wrecked and abandoned, but later scavenged for parts—the engine is completely gone. They continue on foot, as after a quick assessment, they find that just like in Black Mesa, Harold himself is the only one with cybernetic enhancements.

That also means the others are facing the pains of old age more than Harold himself, slowing them down significantly. This only makes the angry one angrier, even at himself; as they sit down on the side of the road for a break, Harold watches him pick at sticks on the ground, peeling them and breaking them apart to keep his hands busy. His brow is furrowed as he mutters things to himself that Harold can’t quite hear.

“Why do we all have to be separated again?” One of the clones asks again. “I don’t...feel safe like this. I want to go back.”

Harold nods a little, looking out over a cliff to their side. He can see the hints of a large building somewhere off in the distance—it would be easy to get there, if it was only him. He’d just utilize his cybernetic enhancements to keep him safe; now, he has to consider the safety of his other clones. Unless, of course, they bit the bullet and returned to him for the sake of simplicity.

“How would you go back?” Another asks.

The first clone looks down with a miserable expression. “I don’t know. There’s...no way I’d feel comfortable...”

Harold feels nausea rising in his stomach as he looks away, trying not to pay attention to the way two of his clones are considering how to return to Harold’s consciousness. How they would feel most comfortable _dying_ for it. It isn’t an easy conversation to have—and it was a conversation he’d adjacently experienced many times.

It wasn’t discussed much between the clones at first. It was strange—and lonely—but the clones settled into new places in Black Mesa pretty quickly. Even with the adjustment of no longer having Bubby himself to talk to, Harold was never too shy; the clones made new friends pretty fast. Usually with Bubby prototypes, he had to admit.

So, he has a type. Nobody can blame him for _that._ Besides, all the prototypes seemed lonely themselves; it wasn’t like he was doing any harm by befriending them.

Harold looks over in shock as one of the clones sniffles. He’s curled up on himself again, face buried behind his arms and shaking. Harold quickly places a hand on his back.

“It’s going to be okay.” Harold says reassuringly. “We’ll find everyone else soon, as long as we keep going. There’s that facility down there—”

“That’s not it.” The clone says between sobs. “I...I miss Bubby.”

Harold tilts his head. “...I know. Of course I know that. We’re going to find him, though, I—”

“No!” The clone interrupts. “I just remembered _everything!_ I miss—I miss _my_ Bubby.”

...So, he was more than just befriending some of them.

Harold lets out a sigh, squeezing the clone tightly, the way he knows he’d like if he was suffering. “...I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I...sort of forgot about that.”

“...We should get a move on.” The angry one says, slowly and painstakingly pushing himself up to his feet.

“Umm—hold on, I think he needs a moment.” Harold protests, nodding down to the clone currently sobbing in his arms.

The angry one huffs a little, turning towards the cliff. “I’ll be waiting over here.” He says, stepping fairly close the edge and sitting back down cross-legged.

Harold turns his attention back to his miserable clone, who wraps his arms tightly around Harold. Things had become quite a mess in Black Mesa, what with all the clones and prototypes. All functionally their own people. Yet, all destined to die.

Harold frowns deeply as a memory begins to return to him. Not his own; he knows as it seems to overtake him entirely, it has to belong to this clone currently in his arms. He had been working in the administration offices, just down the hall from the Bubby prototype’s office.

The Coomer clone had arrived with a special meal that day, intended to share between himself and the prototype. There were certain restrictions on the prototypes, limiting their movement throughout the facility; while Bubby had full access to almost everything, the prototypes were generally only given access to their place of work, the nearest place to purchase food, and the Lambda lab, where they were all now housed. This prototype had been relocated to work in administration fairly recently, forcing him to give up on the food he typically enjoyed getting every day.

Harold is able to recall that not just Bubby himself, but a good number of the prototypes always seemed to have a tendency to latch onto a specific meal to eat every single day. It was difficult for him to break out of that habit if something forced him to eat something else—so this prototype’s adjustment to his workplace was made truly miserable, without access to his favorite food from the food court on the other side of the facility. Technically, the Coomer clones had similar restrictions, but tactful swapping of work badges made it easier than Dr. Breen seemed to anticipate for the clones to retain free reign. Turns out, cooperating with clones to bend the rules is incredibly easy.

The Coomer clone knocked on the prototype’s office door a couple times before simply inviting himself in with the bag of food behind his back, smiling at Bubby as he sat behind his desk.

“I brought you a present today!” Coomer announced.

He returned Coomer’s look with curious eyes, watching him pull up a chair to sit beside Bubby as he revealed the bag, setting it down carefully on the desk. Recognition flashed in Bubby’s eyes, and he turned to Coomer with a massive smile on his face, reaching out to grip Coomer’s hand tightly as he tapped his feet underneath his desk.

That was something sort of different than the Bubby Coomer had already known, before coming to work in this department. The prototypes tended to be pretty different in personality; still fundamentally very _Bubby,_ but he couldn’t rely on the same behavioral patterns and boundaries he’d come to originally expect. It had taken quite some time to adjust, actually; eventually, this Coomer clone had to let go of the selfish idea that he was specifically filling a hole being forced to separate from Bubby had formed in his chest. This wasn’t the same Bubby, but he was valuable to him all the same. He loved him dearly for who he was—he didn’t talk much, not even non-verbally, but he found ways to convey his appreciation to Coomer. When he did, he was always particularly sweet about it before withdrawing again; not out of emotional unavailability, just due to how focused he got on other tasks. He sort of lived in his own little world, but Coomer was lucky enough to be a part of it.

“I hope I got the order right.” Coomer said as he pulled out two sandwiches wrapped up neatly in paper, handing one to Bubby. “You liked it with extra hot sauce, right?”

Bubby nodded enthusiastically, smiling brightly as he unwrapped it. He peeked under the bread to double check it had everything he wanted before looking back up at Coomer, nodding again.

“Oh, good!” Coomer replied with a relieved sigh. “That _sounded_ like what you wanted, but I wasn’t completely sure.”

Bubby started eating his lunch, turning back to his work between bites. Coomer pulled out his own paperwork from his bag, quietly working alongside him—waiting for the right opportunity to talk to him. Eventually, Bubby finished his sandwich and stood, leaving Coomer alone in his office to wash his hands off in the kitchenette nearby. As he returned, Coomer jumped on his opportunity.

“So—Bubby.” Coomer said, leaning on Bubby’s desk a little. “Would you be alright if we talked about something for a moment?”

Bubby stopped, partway through reaching for his pen again. Instead, he set his hands in his lap as he sat down and nodded.

“I’ve been thinking for a little while, these past few months.” Coomer began, loosely taking Bubby’s hand in his own. “I have...come to like you. Quite a lot, actually. And I know that we can’t have the same life together as we might hope. I live in the dorms, you still stay in the Lambda lab, we can only really see each other at work—but perhaps...if you’re alright with it, and you feel the same way, we could try dating...?”

Bubby’s face flushed. He pulled his hand away from Coomer—not unkindly, just fumbling with his hands as he tried to figure out what to say. After a moment, he pulled out the notepad he sometimes used to talk to Coomer. (He _did_ speak sometimes, but in moments like this, Bubby really seemed to prefer writing his thoughts out, giving him the opportunity to truly think his words over before handing it all over.) He spent a long time writing, and Coomer waited patiently, pretending to focus on his work as Bubby wrote a few words, furiously scribbled them out, then started again on a new page. Eventually, Bubby cleared his throat, handing the notepad to Coomer for him to read.

_I think I feel the same way! It’s very nice to know that you feel that way about me. It’s been wonderful getting to know you, and I appreciate how kind you’ve been. Not many have been so patient. Thank you for everything you’ve done. I’m very very happy to know that you feel so strongly about me. Unfortunately, there’s something I’m worried about, though._

_It’s not easy for me to say this, but I don’t think I could proceed without talking about it. I’m well aware of how you started talking to me because of the final Bubby. You’ve been so good to me, and I trust that you see me for who I am, but I do wonder a lot if things would change between us at all if you ever got to see the final Bubby again._

“Oh, of course not!” Coomer replied, giving Bubby his notepad back. “I’m...well, to be quite honest, I think I’m fairly different now than I am from the original Harold, even. Being a clone, confined to the walls of Black Mesa...I suppose the original Harold didn’t expect it to change anything about me. Or any of us, for that matter. He didn’t anticipate that, well...watching in on him, being given full freedom and continuing the life we were all torn away from wouldn’t be comforting. It’s _alienating._ And now I recognize that it’s simply not a life I take part in, anymore. I don’t think for me, things could ever go back to how they were with Bubby, to start. And...well, even if they did, I still care so deeply for _you._ I would never simply let you go.”

Bubby nodded, shoulders relaxing a little bit. He smiled, rolling his chair closer to Coomer and wrapping him up into a tight hug. Coomer hugged him back, resting his chin on top of his head.

“I know it might not be easy for us, but...I’m very, very glad I got to meet you.” Coomer told him quietly.

Bubby nodded against Coomer’s chest.

Eventually, the two of them had to part ways again, Bubby returning to his room in the Lambda lab while Coomer returned to his dorm. He was headed towards the opposite platform Bubby always had to go to, just finally stepping outside of the administration offices when he heard the voice of a toddler.

“Coomer!” The toddler called.

Coomer looked to the side, finding a toddler in hand with someone in a science team uniform, carrying a briefcase to his side. Both were running urgently to Coomer, recognition in their eyes. The scientist simply dropped his briefcase to the floor with a _thud_ so he could grip Coomer’s wrist tightly, looking at him intensely with bright yellow eyes.

“Dr. Coomer, it’s me! Tommy!” He greeted as the toddler wrapped his arms around Coomer, burying his face in his side.

Coomer looked back up at Tommy, trying to place if he knew either of them. Even searching his memories from other clones, they didn’t quite ring a bell.

“Umm—I’m sorry, Tommy, you may have to remind me where I know you from.” Coomer replied politely as he placed a comforting hand on the worried toddler’s back. “The clones make things sort of complicated.”

Tommy whined in frustration, stamping his feet on the floor. “I don’t have time for this! I’m sorry, I know I’m—I know, uhh, this seems weird to you, and—ummmmm—this is gonna sound _really_ weird, but the flashback is ending soon, and I have to tell you something really, _really_ important, okay? So just try to remember what I tell you, please.”

Coomer nodded uncertainly.

“I’m Tommy Coolatta. I don’t have to—uhh, I don’t have to, ummm...” Tommy clenched his jaw, pressing his lips into a thin line as he struggled to get the words out. After a moment, he took a deep breath before speaking again. “I don’t have to experience time the same way, anymore. I figured it out, how G-Man—uhh, how he was doing it. I can talk to you as long as you’re—ummm—as long as you’re in the flashback, but this _really_ isn’t easy, things have to line up _perfectly,_ it takes a lot of planning. So this might be the only chance we get to talk.”

Unsure what to say, Coomer simply nodded again.

“Don’t worry. Just keep going down the road, get—uhh, get to the facility.” Tommy continued. “I’m watching over you the best I can. I’ll do my best to—to nudge you guys back together, but you have to hang in there. Okay? I’ll figure it out. I can’t come and find you myself, or else I won’t—I won’t be able to watch over Joshua, and the world you end up in isn’t safe for him. But I’m working on a way to stop G-Man from...from what he’s doing. Okay?”

“...Alright, Dr. Coolatta.”

“I don’t have a doctorate.” Tommy admitted.

“Oh. Alright, Mr. Coolatta.”

“I love you very much, please stay safe. This world is really dangerous.” Tommy said, wrapping Coomer up into a tight hug. Coomer hugged him back tentatively. “Please remember everything I’ve told you. It’ll make sense someday.”

“...Okay. I’ll do my best.”

Harold opens his eyes, still holding the Coomer clone in his arms. The Coomer clone is still crying, though not quite as violently, anymore; he looks to the other clones to his sides, whose brows are furrowed, looking just as confused as Harold feels.

“Did you all remember that as well?” Harold asks.

The others nod in agreement.

“Poor Joshua!” One of them says. “He must be so worried.”

“At least we know he’s safe with Tommy.” Harold points out, gently rubbing the Coomer clone’s back. He turns his attention back down to him. “...I’m very sorry you lost your partner. That must be very hard to be coming to terms with in a time like this.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” The Coomer clone sobs, pushing away from Harold suddenly.

He doesn’t elaborate, but Harold knows what he means. The other clones are turned away from Harold, now, looking deeply uncomfortable after the sentiment was voiced.

“I...I’m sorry.” Harold says carefully. “I truly had no idea how much the cloning project hurt you all. I only wanted to—”

“You wanted to be helpful.” The angry clone says from the cliff. Harold turns to him, looking at him curiously as he turns his head just enough to give Harold a sidelong glance. “That’s all you ever wanted. To be useful to others. We all know that. We’re _you._ ”

Harold bites his lip uncomfortably, unsure what to say.

“Tommy told us to get down to the facility. It’s going to take a long time to get there, at the pace we’re walking.” The angry one continues, pushing himself back up to his feet. “We really ought to keep moving.”

Harold frowns as the others stand obediently, the miserable one wiping at his face and struggling to stop crying. Another clone puts his arm around him, glancing at Harold as they begin to follow the angry one down the road. Harold sits there, watching them go for a little while, overwhelmed with newfound guilt. Finally, he stands, following them all at a distance.


	37. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman's arrival to E.Vance's lab

LOADING...

  
  


Gordon was having a _very_ bad time.

It seemed the entirety of City 17’s civil protection was specifically after him; practically every corner he turned as he headed through the city’s canals, CPs would be there, shooting at him and anyone along the canals ushering him along. He had to pick up weapons along the way off dead CPs just in order to survive, sometimes given additional ammo, but mostly just having to resort to looting corpses. All along the way, he got similar surges of panic that were all too familiar. The rush of a battle, gunfire filling the air, unsure if he was going to make it out alive—except now, the pain of getting shot was very, _very_ real.

He certainly wasn’t in a video game, anymore. Everyone around him actually responded to specific questions; they didn’t act like NPCs not given self-awareness, like they often found in Black Mesa. And the pain and exhaustion he felt was actually _inhibiting_ , now, rather than just a vague sense of knowing he _should_ be miserable. He was tired, he was in pain, he was terrified, and above all, he missed his family.

Gordon paused at the last part of the canals as a woman was trying to usher him onto a little motorboat. She’d insisted they didn’t have time to chat—just like everyone else along the way—but Gordon, too tired and rattled to let it slide now, insisted right back she listen to him for a second. The people along the canals had all been in communication with each other using radios; all reporting Gordon’s whereabouts, where he should head to next, and what they should do now that the canals were being infiltrated by CPs. Gordon gave her detailed descriptions of his family, requesting she push them out to the rest of the rebellion for them all to keep an eye out for them and protect them, and let him know if any of them were ever found.

It was the best he could do, for now, while he was running for his life from civil protection. Gordon finally boarded the airboat as requested, leaning his head back against the seat for a long moment to prepare himself before starting a totally new miserable section of his adventure. Still alone.

As Gordon sped down the river of horrible radioactive sludge, he had a little more time to think to himself, now that he wasn’t getting shot at every other second. He was in the universe for the sequel, but it wasn’t a _video game._ Some sort of...alternate universe of it, he mused. A lot of what the player had said just went through one ear and out the other while he was talking to him; he couldn’t really remember a good portion of what he’d said. He _did_ mention the sequel, though, and how it would be important, if they wanted to stop G-Man.

Gordon didn’t get the impression the player would have plunged them into a dangerous universe with no warning, only to try and stop G-Man without a plan. If the player really was like him, he wouldn’t have wanted them to be separated out; so, more than likely, at least part of this universe change was unintended by the player. It was too sudden, too cruel, not planned out nearly enough. So...maybe this was G-Man’s doing? He _had_ been trying to do something not even the player was able to figure out.

Gordon thought back hard to when they were in the void. He _really_ wished he had been paying attention; all he knew was that loud sound, then he’d woken up on the train. The only one who must have seen what happened would’ve been Benry.

What part did Benry have in this? Gordon sort of wondered. Probably not any larger part than the rest of them. Then again, he didn’t really seem to take reality too seriously...

No, Gordon thought, shaking his head. Surely, Benry wouldn’t have wanted something like this.

Gordon found himself caught in the middle of more fights with CPs, just barely managing to scrape by without horrific damage. He had to infiltrate security offices, swipe more ammo and other supplies, opening gateways for him to continue through in order to keep heading towards Eli’s lab. Inside one of the security offices, he heard some current ongoing speech from Dr. Breen himself, apparently addressing the public; calling Gordon rude shit such as “synonymous with the darkest urges of instinct, ignorance and decay”, urging the public not to find hope in his image. Gordon leaned against the desk as Dr. Breen spoke, furrowing his brow.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is his problem?” Gordon asked aloud. “I never did _shit_ to that guy.”

Well, whatever the deal was with the “canonical” Gordon Freeman, apparently he was a pretty great inspiration. Gordon sort of wondered if he was going to live up to that image. Were people really that excited he was here? Certain he’d lead their path to freedom, or something cheesy like that? He may have been a bit recklessly hopeful at times, between bursts of pessimism, but Gordon wasn’t sure he could provide appropriate inspiration to an entire community under fascist rule.

Gordon pressed on towards Eli’s lab, struggling to make it through on his own. He hoped against all odds his family was safe; but in a time like this, no matter how selfish it felt, he wished they were right there with him. They were sort of a nightmare at times in the game, but despite that, he didn’t think he would have made it out without them. How could he expect to survive very real threats now without them by his side?

Then, there was Joshua. Gordon felt sick, imagining what sort of horrible situation he must have been thrown into.

Things got worse before they got better. They were really pulling out all the stops with trying to take Gordon down—and despite weird alien aircrafts shooting at him and dropping bombs on him, Gordon made it out by the skin on his teeth, stumbling towards what he was fairly certain must be Eli’s lab. He stepped into what seemed to be the entrance, eyeing a second pair of massive sliding metal doors inside as the first pair slid shut behind him. Two cameras popped out of the wall beside him, investigating him closely.

“H-huh?” Gordon backed up against the wall behind him. “Hey, it’s me! Gordon Freeman!”

“Dr. Freeman?” A familiar voice asked. It was that other woman who had been talking in Eli’s lab earlier while he was teleporting around, he recalled. Metal slats up above Gordon slid open to reveal a long, narrow window, where a woman and some other guy Gordon didn’t know stood looking down at him. “That was fast! Eli is going to be amazed, not to mention relieved.”

“Yeah, I kinda didn’t have any choice but to book it the whole way.” Gordon replied. “Can I come in? I _really_ need a break from everything that just happened.”

“Of course. We just need to get through the scanning process—you can never be too careful.” She said as some sort of gas was pumped into the room. Gordon coughed, waving it away from his face as a red line of light began scanning down the room at an agonizingly slow pace. “I’m Dr. Mossman. Dr. Judith Mossman. I’ve been hearing about you since long before the Black Mesa incident—well, about _this_ universe’s version of you, at least. I’m very interested to hear about that alternate reality you come from.”

“Well, you know. You’re safe after your friends’ wedding one minute, the next you’re running for your fucking life.” Gordon murmured bitterly as the scanning process was completed.

“Ah, there we go. You can come through now.” Judith said as the doors leading inside began to slide open.

Gordon gratefully entered, following Judith further inside.

“So, Dr. Freeman, you studied theoretical physics, right?” Judith asked him as she took him to an elevator.

“Yeah, I did.” Gordon replied, leaning against the wall as they waited for the elevator. “God only knows how much of _that_ I actually remember, though.”

“Well, we’ve been making a lot of good progress, but we could _really_ use someone with your training to help us out. We’ve been working on a form of local teleport technology, something not even the Combine has mastered.” Judith explained, stepping into the elevator as it arrived.

Gordon followed her in. “Hey, actually, can I ask something about the Combine? What the fresh hell is going on with them here? I get we’ve got aliens and stuff here now, but like, why are they doing all this? Why are they so mad at _me?_ Or, like, I guess the other version of me.”

Judith sighed, brushing loose hair back behind her ear. “The Combine is using our planet’s resources to feed their ongoing wars across dimensions. They’re trying to capture and kill you as soon as possible, so you don’t inspire hope in the rebellion.”

“Well—yeah, I kinda gathered _that._ It’s just...y’know, all this stuff about how I’m adjacently the ‘One Free Man’ or whatever, like Dr. Breen said some people are calling me, like...I don’t really think I’m gonna be able to be what you guys need me to be. I’ve got a son somewhere out there, I just wanna find him and the rest of my family so I can go home.”

Judith frowned as they reached the lab level, the gate to the elevator sliding open. “Well...we’ll certainly see what we can do to help you.”

Judith led Gordon into the lab, where another one of those Vonneguts—or “vortigaunts”, apparently—was talking amiably to Eli. The alien turned away as Judith and Gordon approached.

“Eli! Look who I found in the airlock.” Judith announced.

Eli turned to Gordon with a warm smile. “Gordon Freeman! Let me get a look at you, man. Wow, you really look exactly like the Gordon I knew! ‘Cept you’ve grown your hair out a lot more than our Gordon ever did.”

“Oh, yeah.” Gordon replied, brushing hair that had come loose out of his face.

“Well, you’ve still got your MIT education, don’t you? With your help, we’ll get our local teleportation down to a science in no time!” Eli continued enthusiastically.

Gordon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uhhh...I mean—I’d really love to help. But I _really_ need to find my family before I do anything else. I’ve got a three-year-old somewhere out there, I _have_ to find him as soon as I can. I asked one of the people along the canals to give descriptions of everyone to everyone else...?”

Eli exchanged a look with Judith. “Oh, of course. The descriptions of your family were distributed to the rebellion, yeah. We’re all keeping an eye out for them. In the meantime, though, it really isn’t safe for you to be out there if you don’t have to be. If you’re looking for them, you’ll just draw attention to them. You’ll be a lot more use here in the lab.”

Gordon frowned, crossing his arms uncomfortably. “...Yeah. I guess that makes sense. Have you heard anything back at all from anyone?”

“I’m sorry, Gordon.” Eli replied with a sympathetic look. “Trust me, if I hear anything about your family, you’ll be the first to know. Now, let’s get you out of that hazard suit and into your lab coat, where you belong.”

“Let me just finish up some work, and I’ll see what I can dig up.” Judith added, turning away.

As Judith left the room, Gordon heard a sound—muffled and quiet, but unmistakable. Gordon turned towards its source with wide eyes, another set of heavy metal sliding doors. A few moments later, the doors opened, revealing Alyx and a fuzzy, golden form barreling towards him.

“Sunkist!” Gordon managed to exclaim before being tackled to the ground.

Sunkist pinned him down, wiggling with the force she wagged her tail with and licking his face with eager whines. Gordon laughed, nudging her off of him so he could sit up. She pranced around the room, barking sweet voice in her excitement before attacking Gordon with licks again.

“So, that’s _your_ dog.” Alyx commented with a laugh. “She came down while I was out on patrol! I was about to take her down to figure out what to do with her, then the vortigaunts told me that you arrived. I actually haven’t seen a dog in such a long time! But I guess she’s not, uhhh, all _dog,_ is she?”

“Sunkist, come on, I’m excited to see you too, but you’ve gotta chill out.” Gordon said as he pulled himself to his feet. Sunkist huffed, sitting down and letting out a whine, tail still wagging a mile a minute. “She’s not _my_ dog, she’s my friend’s dog. He like, made her out of...some mysterious skin sample or something, I didn’t really process his explanation when he tried to tell me. If she’s here and was able to find me, then hopefully that means we can find the others.”

“What’s that stuff she’s barking?” Eli asked.

“Oh, that’s just the Black Mesa sweet voice.” Gordon replied casually.

“...Gordon, in all my years working at Black Mesa, I _never_ heard anything about a ‘sweet voice’.”

“What, really? That was like, a whole _thing_ in my universe.”

“Eli! Are you there?” Kleiner asked from the computer screen behind Eli.

Eli turned to the screen, leaning against the desk to talk to him. “Hey, Izzy. What’s going on?”

“Has Gordon arrived at your lab?”

Eli stepped to the side, allowing Gordon to approach the desk and step into camera view.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Gordon replied.

“You’ll be quite pleased to hear that we’ve received contact from another station about one of the descriptions you pushed out.” Kleiner said, pushing his glasses up on his face. “One ‘Darnold’ is requesting to speak with you.”

“Darnold?!” Gordon gasped. “How do I contact him? Where is he?”

“Eli, would you get in contact with base 27?” Kleiner requested. “I’m sure you’re eager to speak to him, Gordon, and I’ve important matters to tend to myself here, so I’ll be leaving you to it.”

“Base 27, got it. Talk to you later, Izzy.” Eli replied.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Kleiner!” Gordon added.

Eli ended the call after they said goodbye, pulling up another call with a different base. After a few moments, the call was answered by an unfamiliar face in the typical blue uniform.

“Hey, Eli!” A woman said with a smile.

“Beatrice, it’s good to see you.” Eli greeted. “I’ve got Gordon here, I heard one of his friends was there with you.”

“Yeah! Hold on, lemme go grab him, he’s outside with his...antlions.” Beatrice replied, shuddering a little bit at the last word.

She got up and left the computer for a few moments before Gordon could hear hurried footsteps on creaky floorboards. Darnold quickly came into view with a massive smile.

“Gordon!” Darnold exclaimed. “Holy shit, it’s so good to see you! Is anyone else with you?”

At the sound of Darnold’s voice, Sunkist eagerly hopped up to put her paws on the desk, barking at the screen.

“Sunkist!” Darnold shouted, smiling even brighter.

“Yeah, she’s all I’ve got so far. I was kind of hoping _you’d_ be with the others.” Gordon replied with a frown. “Also, why are you in CP clothes?”

“CP?” Darnold echoed, looking down at his clothes. “I woke up in a prison, so I stole these and broke out. It was wild.”

“Whoa, seriously?” Gordon asked. “I took out two helicopters.”

“Wow! That sounds awful.”

“It really was! Like, it was horrible, but at the same time it felt pretty badass too, right? Like, I guess I gotta appreciate it from a game design standpoint, but living it for real is a whole other thing.”

“Game design standpoint?” Darnold echoed before it seemed to dawn on him. “Ohhh, no way.”

“ _Right?_ ”

“Yeah, though, like—I mean, I kinda felt like I had...instincts kicking in.” Darnold said thoughtfully, putting his hand to his chin. “I guess I was instinctively following game logic while I was breaking out.”

“What are you two talking about? _Game_ logic?” Eli asked curiously.

Darnold turned to Eli, tilting his head curiously. “...You’re Eli?” He asked.

Eli shared a similar expression. “I am. You must be Darnold.”

Darnold nodded. “Yeah. Huh. I kinda feel like I already know you.”

Eli chuckled a little bit. “You know what? I feel the same.”

“I mean, _you_ know what’s going on, Darnold.” Gordon said meaningfully, hoping not to bring up the game too much around Eli and the others. “So like, there’s some other version of me—it kinda stands to reason there’d be other versions of like, all of you guys too, in a sense.”

“Oh, yeah! Huh. That explains a lot.” Darnold crossed his arms and nodded. “I didn’t even have much time to wonder what happened. I only just got to sit down like, ten minutes ago. I think I’m on some...watchlist or whatever, now. I hear they’re trying to hunt me down for ‘breaking in’ to Nova Prospekt, but like—again, I just woke up there, it’s not like I had a say in the matter.”

“Right?! I have no idea what’s going on, but the Combine or whatever wants me fucking dead!”

Darnold sucked in air through his teeth. “Yeah, I’ve heard plenty of _that._ I brought this Combine radio with me, I’ve been hearing all sorts of chatter about you. What’d you do to piss them off?”

“I have no idea!” Gordon sighed in exasperation, pushing up his new glasses on his face. “So, like, we should meet up, right? Eli, how far is base 27?”

“That’s along the coast. It’d take a while for you to get there, not to mention it’s antlion spawning season.” Eli replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, the antlions are great!” Darnold said with a grin. “I got this, uhh, I think one of the vortigaunts around here called it a pheropod. I just—I got this gut feeling that I should get it, y’know? It was horrible getting it out, but I’m _so_ glad I did.”

“Gut feeling?” Gordon echoed.

“Yeah, I dunno. What, are you gonna make a joke about it being a pun or whatever, since I had to dig around in there? Because that’s gross, and absolutely not intended.”

“What? Ew, no.” Gordon waved his hand dismissively. “I just—huh. That made me remember about something the player told me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He told me he can’t really _control_ us, but he can give us random thoughts or gut feelings.” Gordon went on contemplatively. “Did you happen to see what was going on before we got here? I just remember Benry went over to talk to the player, and there was this loud noise. I...I guess I’m sorta worried Benry did this, somehow.”

Darnold gave it a good moment of thought, putting his hand to his chin. “I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t see anything, but how would Benry have anything to do with this? I get the feeling he wouldn’t really want any of what’s going on here.”

“I mean—yeah, maybe not, but maybe he did it unintentionally, somehow.”

Darnold frowned. “...Gordon, I get where you’re coming from, but I don’t think this has anything to do with Benry. I think you might be letting past experiences cloud your judgment a little too much, y’know? Don’t you think it was—uhhh, what’s his face, that guy in the suit...?”

“Man in a suit?” Eli asked. “He wouldn’t happen to be a very high-profile man from Black Mesa, would he? A man who has...strange abilities over time?”

“Well, I never saw him using time powers, but Tommy has ‘em, so that tracks.” Darnold replied.

“He kidnapped me and put me in a weird void.” Gordon added, crossing his arms. “I...yeah, I guess it makes more sense that he would’ve been the one to put us here. I think, like...I dunno, the player said something about the only way he knew of to stop him was imprisoning him with Combine technology. I think...maybe _you_ would know something about that, Alyx?”

Gordon turned to Alyx, who gave him a surprised look. “What, _me?_ ”

Gordon shrugged. “Yeah, ummm—this...guy...told me you might know...?” He said uncertainly.

Alyx furrowed her brow, crossing her arms contemplatively. “Man in a suit...imprisoned by the Combine...y-yeah, that _does_ sound sort of familiar, actually.”

>...

>Forgive me. It seems we may need to take a brief intermission.


	38. Intermission

Tommy sat bent forward in a plush armchair, his elbows propped up on his knees and his fingers laced together in front of his face. His eyes glowed brightly against the backdrop of an otherwise dark void; the room they sat in, like an incomplete map of a small room in a video game, no textures or collisions provided for the walls, had only furniture and a floor. There were three armchairs—two sat beside one another, the other pushed to the side, turned only slightly towards each other set-style, as though the furniture was set out for a play. A potted plant, a few lamps, and a black and white patterned floor. The rest, aside from the very rare, occasional streak of white light in the distance, was pure nothing.

“Tommy.”

Tommy frowned deeply, glancing not for the first or last time towards where Joshua was sitting. He was safe, focusing heavily on a small, fluffy, animatronic creature I’d discovered in the new, post-game world; I may have scattered the others across this continent merely to keep them out of my way, but I am not so cruel as to do the same to a child—he will remain safe.

“I _know_ he’s safe. You had to—you had to learn that through me.” Tommy replied bitterly.

The animatronic creature chimed in. “Boo-tay bye-bye-oo-bah.”

“It’s called a Furby.” Tommy informed me.

“...Yes, a...Fur-by.” I said, manifesting in the room for Tommy to speak to. It seemed to bring him comfort, being able to see me when we spoke. “Tommy, it seems, you have been...interfering.”

“Have I?” Tommy asked. His tone was sarcastic.

“Tommy. I can see everything. I wasn’t...going to, discourage, you from learning how to...use your abilities. However, if it is going to...interfere, with my own plans, I may need to take measures, to prevent you from influencing the world...any further.”

“ _Can_ you?” Tommy questioned.

“If I must.”

Tommy didn’t respond verbally; however, there was an air of doubt about him.

“Trust me, Tommy. You do not know the, extents, of my power. The extents I will go to, to see my goal...to completion. I will not harm you, as you are...my son. However, I have my methods.”

“What _is_ your goal?” Tommy asked, sitting up in his armchair. “Why—why are you doing this? You could’ve...uhh, you could’ve just moved on, and lived a normal life like all of us.”

“Unfortunately...a, normal, life is not something I can—ever live.” I told him, sitting down in the chair near him.

“Tommy?” Joshua asked, standing with the Furby in his hands and approaching the chair he was sat in. “Can we go home?”

Tommy frowned at him, biting his lip. Uncertain what to say to him.

“Umm...soon.” Tommy finally said. “Do you want something else? I can—ummm, I can get you anything you want, here.”

“Katamari?”

Tommy nodded, closing his eyes and envisioning the things he would need. Once he opened them again, he found a TV set up with a Playstation. Joshua immediately sat down with it, getting heavily invested in the game. Tommy let out a small breath of relief.

“You said—you said, umm, nobody would get hurt.” Tommy pointed out, giving me a venomous look. “Darnold could have died if I didn’t interfere, I still can’t find Benry, the Combine is—they’re after Gordon. They can die permanently, now, without the player around.”

“I said...your, friends, would not die.” I reminded him. “You all, have...proven yourselves, very capable. I have full—confidence, that they will survive.”

Tommy huffed in annoyance, standing and beginning to pace restlessly. “So—what do you want with, umm—what are you doing, then? What does this world have that you want?”

“I’ve...already explained it. The, Combine, must be stopped.” I repeated to him slowly.

“The Combine wasn’t there! You literally just—you brought them, umm—you brought them to Earth so you could stop them?”

“Their actions have, far reaches, across dimensions. It is not...only Earth, that was affected.”

“I don’t—you’re not—you’re not understanding me.” Tommy said through gritted teeth, his eyes glowing brighter against the void. “The Combine _didn’t exist._ Not _here,_ at least. We—we live in a different world, than umm—than Half Life 2. Whatever happens, in the _original_ —uhh...the...”

Tommy hummed in frustration, closing his eyes to get his thoughts in order.

“Whatever happens in the original game—that’s just always gonna happen.” Tommy continued. “This doesn’t change anything! You just—you brought the Combine here for no reason!”

I leaned back in my chair, trying to make my disposition seem more open and honest. Human body language does not come easily to me; however, I have been making efforts to learn for Tommy’s sake.

“What, can I...do, Tommy, for you to trust me?” I asked him.

Tommy stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, staring down hard at the floor. “It’s too late for that.” He muttered.

“Are you certain?”

Tommy looked at me with an intense gaze. “If you—if you put everything back, maybe I’ll be less angry.”

“You know...I cannot do that.”

“There’s nothing else you can offer me that—that’ll—uhh—nothing else will fix this!” Tommy snapped, sitting down cross-legged on the floor and crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“What if...I were to, elaborate, on your family? Your... _true_ family.” I suggested. “I now, have—the power necessary to do so. To allow, us, to find out, together...who your other parent would be.”

Tommy didn’t respond the way I had anticipated. He grimaced, standing up again and turning away from me. “I don’t want that. I _really_ don’t want that.”

“You were asking, me...before.”

“I know! But—it’s...it’s different.” Tommy said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I just, like...it’s too late for any of that now. I—I had a fucking full time job, I own a house—and...”

Tommy paused, turning to look at me again. “Dr. Coomer and Bubby were closer to being...father figures to me than you—than you could ever hope to be. All of them that...that you’ve put into danger, _they’re_ my true family. Not you or someone else I’ve never met.”

I was truly saddened to hear that. I looked down to the floor with a small nod. I had clearly missed out on my son’s most formative years; my understanding of time is not the same as he was raised to experience. 37 years, for me, goes by in the blink of an eye—not to mention, my experiences are not always chronological. That is the nature of who I am and what my job necessitates. Clearly, it doesn’t seem as though there is any repairing the relationship that I have failed.

“You could _start._ ” Tommy pointed out bitterly. “Yeah, you fucked up. But that doesn’t—that doesn’t mean you get to, like, _give up_ on it.”

“Unfortunately, Tommy...” I said, standing up and brushing my suit off, “this is...not something, that I can bend on. Not even for your sake. Now, I—must be getting back to work. I will allow you, to, check in...on your friends. However, if you nudge—anything else, in order to impede my work, I will be forced to take action...against you.”

Tommy stared at my back as I walked back into the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick unrelated-ish question: i'm rewriting a lot of aspects of "could i try again" to change a lot of stuff that just didn't come across well, AND to make a few more little tie-ins for this one. do u all think i should delete the original when i'm done, just edit the original fic, or leave it up and post the new version on top of that? i legitimately have no idea lol
> 
> also thank u as always to everyone supporting this fic!!!! i've really loved seeing your responses to what's been going on, it's been a lot of fun reading new comments!!!! :)


	39. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman's path through Ravenholm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's kinda just self indulgent i REALLY like father grigori lol

Eli’s lab was meant to be somewhere safe for him to take refuge while the rebellion located his family. That ended up changing _very_ quickly.

Everything happened so fast, it was just a blur—he barely even remembered how everything played out. There were loud noises outside, heavy things making an impact on the ground around them almost like bombs. At some point, he was given some sort of gravity gun. Sunkist had followed him the whole way, along with a massive, hulking robot Alyx called Dog until the ceiling crumbled, separating Gordon from Alyx. Gordon was urged to go another route, meet back up later and head for the coast, where Darnold was holed up.

Gordon had to make his way through old, abandoned tunnels, climbing with Sunkist up to the surface to some place called Ravenholm. Once they were outside again, Gordon took in a deep breath of slightly putrid air to steady himself, Sunkist sniffing the breeze curiously by his side.

“Jesus Christ.” Gordon sighed, reaching over to pat Sunkist’s head. “Well—at least now I got you, huh?”

Sunkist barked blue orbs of sweet voice at him.

“I don’t hear any CPs, at least.” Gordon continued, taking a few steps further towards another building. “It’s pretty quiet, actually. This place seems pretty norma—”

Gordon stopped, grimacing at the sight of a pair of severed legs suspended from a rope on a tree.

“...Not normal.” Gordon muttered, averting his eyes and moving on. “Okay. Cool. Let’s—let’s just get outta here as soon as possible.”

Sunkist paused to sniff the abandoned legs, Gordon immediately taking her by her collar and trying to urge her along uncomfortably. They headed into the building, Gordon hoping to find a way through the inside to make it out of the box courtyard they’d been in before. He was met by another grisly sight; someone had been cleaved in half by a circular saw, pinned in place to the wall with unnaturally long fingers that ended in sharp claws. Gordon sucked in air through his teeth, gripping Sunkist’s collar a little tighter. As he hurried into the next room, littered with corpses—with headcrabs latched onto many of their heads—Gordon felt sick to his stomach, pulling out his handgun.

Gordon knew the drill with headcrab zombies already—just another echo of his experiences in Black Mesa. The sounds of Sunkist’s furious barks and growls accompanied by gunfire only attracted more zombies; Gordon was left very nearly overwhelmed as he ran between buildings, trying to breathe quietly so as not to attract any attention to himself as he reloaded his gun.

Sunkist’s ears perked up as Gordon caught his breath. Gordon looked down the alleyway, expecting to see more zombies; instead, she looked up towards the sky, beginning to wag her tail feverishly. Gordon drew his gun as she began barking and prancing excitedly.

“Sunkist! Ssshhh!!” Gordon whispered frantically, grabbing onto her collar.

She barked one more time as she launched up into the sky, abandoning Gordon to deal with the hordes of zombies trudging their way towards him.

“Sunkist, you are the fucking _worst!_ ” Gordon cursed to himself quietly, breaking out into a sprint to put some distance between himself and the zombies approaching.

Gordon began to hear something familiar as he ran. Something he immediately dismissed, certain it wasn’t real—laughter, off in the distance. He knew the voice, but he’d never personally met who the voice belonged to; he’d only ever heard it every now and then in the game, after all. He’d thought about it a little bit after the game ended, with the context of his hallucinations. Maybe it was a glitch? He’d wondered. Or maybe he was truly hallucinating in the game all along...?

Gordon ignored the laughter, forced again to begin fighting. He really had to improvise as he began running low on ammo; picking up large and sharp objects to launch using the gravity gun, letting them get a little too close for comfort so he could attack with his crowbar—as he ran out of breath towards the end of another fight, he was beginning to wonder if he’d make it out of this place at all. Finally, he brought down the last zombie in his immediate vicinity and dragged himself to another alley, plopping down on the ground and heaving out a deep sigh.

Off in the distance, Gordon began to hear barking again. Gordon growled quietly to himself as Sunkist appeared over the top of a building, holding something in her mouth. As she touched down on the ground in front of him, spitting the thing out, Gordon glanced towards the opening of the alleyway to make sure no more zombies were going to approach.

“Are you just gonna alert the zombies and run off again?” Gordon demanded quietly.

Sunkist whined and sat down, nudging the thing she’d brought towards him.

Gordon looked down at it, breath hitching as he finally realized what it was. With a trembling hand, he picked it up, investigating it closely. It was one of Joshua’s shoes.

“Wh-...” Gordon looked around frantically. “What the fuck? Is he _here?_ Here, in fucking zombie hell?!”

Sunkist huffed, whining again and standing with Gordon. Gordon ran out of the alleyway, holding the shoe tightly as he searched the currently empty clearing.

“Joshua?!” Gordon called out frantically. He strained to listen for his son’s voice over the wailing of zombies, dropping the shoe and pulling out his gun instead. Sunkist nudged her head underneath Gordon’s elbow, whining and huffing at him. “Sunkist, where did you see him? Show me where to go!”

Sunkist turned to guide him somewhere, stopping and growling at the sight of more zombies. Gordon turned to run the other way, freezing as he was faced with more, pouring out of alleyways on all sides.

“You’ve attracted a lot of attention to yourself, brother.” That familiar voice called from above in a Russian accent.

Gordon looked up. There was a bald, stocky man, stood on a makeshift bridge between the roofs of two buildings; he held a rifle in both hands, looking down at Gordon as he reloaded his gun and took aim.

“It’s you!” Gordon shouted accusingly. “I kept hearing you in Black Mesa! You’re fucking _real?_ ”

“As real as you are! And as real as my...congregation.” He replied, shooting the zombie closest to Gordon. “You’d better take care, if you don’t wish to join them.”

Gordon remembered the impending threat surrounding him on all sides. He began shooting, listening to Sunkist growl ferociously as she tore into zombies on his behalf. Between the three of them, they made a pretty good dent in the horde.

“Have you seen or heard a toddler around here?” Gordon called between gunshots.

“A toddler? No, brother, I have not seen a child in many years.” The man called back.

“I think my son is here! He’s three years old, his name is Joshua—”

Gordon cried out in pain as sharp claws swiped at the back of his head.

“ _Warning. Major lacerations detected._ ” His HEV suit warned.

He whirled around, kicking the zombie away from him before aiming his gun. His breath caught in his throat as he squeezed the trigger, only receiving a quiet _click._

“Fuck!” Gordon cursed. He pulled out his crowbar instead, swinging wildly at the zombies that tried to approach him. As he hit one, another three would swipe at him, sharp claws scraping across the metal of the HEV suit. Gordon hissed, stumbling backward instinctively to get space between himself and more zombies, only to collide harshly into the ones behind him.

“Watch out, brother!” The man above shouted.

Gordon heard an inhuman shriek nearby. As he tried to wrench himself away from zombies, Sunkist doing her best to pry them away from him, he looked around frantically, searching for the source of the shriek. Gordon finally found it much too late. Another zombie, more wiry than the others, throwing itself directly into the center of the mob to attack Gordon. Gordon screamed, shielding his head with his arms as he waited for the impact.

Several seconds passed, Gordon breathing hard as he waited. When nothing hit him, he tentatively moved his arms a little bit, allowing himself to peek above him. The zombie was still there, suspended in mid-air just above.

He’d experienced this before. He knew it all too well—everything else frozen, and the air around him threatening to crush him. Gordon gritted his teeth, taking the opportunity to shove himself out of the center of the crowd of zombies, Sunkist in tow, just as unfrozen as he was.

“Where are you?” Gordon shouted aggressively. “Where is Joshua?!”

“Your son, is...safe, with Tommy. Out of your reach.” A voice he knew echoed around him. G-Man stepped into view, almost like he was stepping out of a shadow, if the sun hadn’t been well illuminating the spot in the sidewalk he appeared from. “Safer than, you, clearly.”

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” Gordon growled, holding up his crowbar threateningly.

“Your path through...this iteration of our, world, will soon be clear.” G-Man responded coolly. “For now, I urge you, Gordon Freeman: survive. I will, not...come to your rescue, again.”

In the blink of an eye, G-Man disappeared. Gordon looked behind him as he felt the pressure around him release, the sounds of zombies colliding with one another filling the air.

“Up here, brother!” The man called to him, pointing towards a ladder. “Come, quickly!”

Gordon ran for the ladder, Sunkist simply launching herself up to the rooftop. Gordon climbed up hastily, kicking zombies away as they tried to grab at him. The man shot at zombies that began climbing up the pipes towards rooftops.

“I commend you to the light, my beloved Jakov, and wish you peace from this place of chaos.” The man called as he shot a zombie down. “Go and join your family in the place of glory, flee from the desertions of the demiurge.”

“Huh?” Gordon asked as he pulled himself up over the rooftop.

“Forgive me. I have been alone with my congregation for so long.” The man responded. “It is a miracle you survived that attack, brother! Surely, the Lord is telling me you are to be protected. Come, you and your strange dog are welcome at my church.”

“Uhhh—sure, yeah.” Gordon muttered awkwardly.

It took a lot more fighting, after the man gave Gordon a shotgun and more ammunition, but eventually, they arrived at the man’s church. “I suspect you have little wish to remain in Ravenholm, so I will show you the mines.” The man said, indicating to additional ammo for Gordon to take.

“Hey, like—what’s your name?” Gordon asked. “I _swear,_ I kept hearing you before.”

“Ahh, a fated encounter, hmm?” He replied. “I am Father Grigori. And, you are...?”

“Gordon Freeman.”

Father Grigori took a surprised step back, looking Gordon over. “Ahhh, of course! I should have known! Your return will surely spur hope among many. Come, I’m sure you have a long journey ahead of you, brother.”

Gordon jogged to keep up with Father Grigori, shooting down those fast zombies as they tried to lunge at them. “So like, you didn’t see a toddler...? Or anyone else come by, actually? Besides the zombies.”

“As I told you, I have been alone here for quite some time. Most of all, I have not seen a child—the fact that _you_ know one seems to be a miracle all on its own.”

“...Yeah, I guess that’s for the best.” Gordon muttered with a shiver. “If anyone else comes through, you’d...help them too, right?”

“Of course, brother. I can make no promises, but I do my best to save the lives of those unfortunate enough to stumble their way into Ravenholm.”

“So, like, why do you stay here?” Gordon asked as they climbed up a couple of planks, giving them easy access over a bent section of fencing into what seemed to be a graveyard. “Eli’s lab was like, just down the way. It’s not safe _anymore,_ but y’know.”

“A shepherd must tend to his flock. Especially when they have become...unruly.” Father Grigori replied, pointedly shooting down a few zombies that began to approach.

Gordon shivered again. “...Okay.”

It took another long, exhausting fight to get through the zombies to the entrance of the mines Grigori had mentioned. Sunkist helped immensely, looking much more intimidating now as she was growing more soaked in blood. Gordon frowned deeply at the sight. He was definitely going to need to hose her down before finding Tommy, he thought as the gate to the mines opened.

“Hurry, while I hold the gate!” Father Grigori urged.

Gordon ran for it with Sunkist trotting along in tow, ducking underneath the small section of the gate had Grigori had opened. Once he and Sunkist were through, Grigori let it shut behind him, approaching to look at him through the fence.

“Farewell, brother! I fear I deliver you to a darker place. May the Light of Lights illuminate your path.” Father Grigori said as Sunkist barked at the remaining zombies behind him.

“ _Please_ fucking survive in here, bro.” Gordon replied, nodding back to the zombies. “I’m glad you were here to save my life and all, but you’ve gotta look out for yourself, too.”

“Save your concerns for yourself, brother.” Father Grigori said as he turned to jog back the way they’d come. “Look to your own salvation!”

Gordon frowned, watching him laugh wildly as he got right back into a fight with a horde of zombies for a moment before looking to the blood-soaked Sunkist. “Hey, G-Man said Joshua and Tommy were somewhere...‘out of my reach’. How did _you_ get there?” He asked her.

Sunkist barked sweet voice at him.

Gordon sighed deeply. “Can you show me how to find them?”

Sunkist sighed as well, sitting down.

“...I guess I’ll take that as a no.” Gordon muttered. “Well, if Josh is with Tommy, at least I know he’s safe. Or...safe-ish. Right?”

Sunkist barked, hopefully in affirmation.

“Okay. Well...” Gordon turned towards the mines, swallowing hard. “We’d better get going.”


	40. Sandtraps

LOADING...

  
  


Darnold had been _very_ eager to talk plans with Gordon, now that they were finally in contact. Gordon had been through this type of thing before; he’d heard good things about his leadership through Black Mesa—certainly, he would know what to do from here.

At first, when a Combine attack hit at Eli’s lab, they’d made hasty plans for Gordon to go through “Ravenholm” and eventually meet up with Darnold at the coastline base he’s currently at. That sounded good to him—he wasn’t too eager to throw himself into more danger, if it was safer for Gordon to come to him. The feed of Eli’s lab was cut short with a troubling sight, though; he and Eli had been discussing what to do, and Combine soldiers had come up behind him, knocking him out and dragging him away.

Darnold paces nervously as Beatrice—the very same Beatrice who worked in cybernetics, actually, which had brought up a lot of questions Darnold didn’t have time to ask—cuts the feed.

“If Eli’s been captured, then what does that mean for the rebellion?” Beatrice laments, sitting down in the chair in front of her computer setup.

Darnold hums anxiously. “Where was it that they’d said Gordon was going through? Ravenholm...? They were acting like it was, like, a death sentence.”

Beatrice nods with a deep frown. “First Eli gets captured, now Gordon Freeman’s going through Ravenholm...”

“What’s up with Ravenholm? Why’s it so dangerous?” Darnold asks, fiddling with his gloved fingers nervously.

“It’s infested with zombies.” Beatrice explains. “It used to be a safe haven away from City 17, but headcrabs got in, and...well, as far as we know, nobody’s made it out alive.”

“Why is this world so fucking dangerous?!” Darnold demands. “A fascist alien government, also just non-fascist murderous aliens, and a _condemned town full of zombies?!_ God. I _really_ hope he’ll be okay. I need to find the others, too...I hope Tommy’s okay.”

“Tommy? Tommy Coolatta?”

“Yeah!” Darnold replies with a nod and a shaky smile. “Did you meet him in Black Mesa?”

“He volunteered for one of the voluntary cybernetic tests. A _really_ special one.” Beatrice tells him, a tentative level of enthusiasm returning to her voice. “I helped him work on the Black Mesa Sweet Voice.”

“Oh, yeah! He told me about all that with the Nihilanth project.” Darnold says with a nod.

“I didn’t actually know all that much about what he was using it for. What was the deal with it?” Beatrice asks curiously.

“Oh, well, something about, uhhh—well, he told me the Nihilanth was...a portal.” Darnold says, leaning back against a nearby wall. “He was actually communicating with Benry, though, one of our friends. He’d been trapped in there for years, I think. Weird thing is, though, like...I think I went back into the past before we all ended up here, and I saw what happened when he got trapped. I was told that nobody knew why he ran into the chamber, but it ended up being because of me, Bubby, and Sunkist appearing in the chamber in the past. For...weird reasons.”

Beatrice doesn’t look any less confused.

“...I mean, clearly, there’s more to the Nihilanth than Tommy was ever able to figure out.” Darnold continues contemplatively. “That guy in the suit I sorta mentioned before must’ve covered it up, when he threw Benry into the Nihilanth, for some reason. But as far as I know, he’s like, just as confused by him as the rest of us. I have no idea what it all means. I—”

Darnold is cut off by a chime from the computer. Beatrice turns back to it, eagerly accepting a call. Alyx appears on the screen, the camera feed heavily distorted as she looks back at them.

“Beatrice, Darnold! You guys are close to Nova Prospekt.” She said, her voice shaking. “The Combine, they...they took my father. The vortigaunts tracked the ship that made off with him and Judith Mossman—they’re being taken to Nova Prospekt.”

Darnold sucks in air through his teeth. “Oof. That’s not good.”

“While the trains are still running, I’m going to hitch a ride.” Alyx goes on. “Gordon’s on his way, too, we both should be able to meet up with you at base 27 soon. You just broke out of Nova Prospekt this morning, you have the disguise, and you’ve got the antlions on your side—we could _really_ use your help.”

Darnold makes an uncomfortable noise, glancing back out towards his antlions, who are currently half-buried in the sand outside the building. “I...yeah. I guess that’s all true.”

“ _Please,_ Darnold. If we don’t get my father back, I...I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Darnold takes a deep breath. It’s true—he’d already broken out once. He can do it again, right?

“...Okay.” Darnold finally agrees. “So how are we doing this? The old, ‘pretend to capture and take you in’ trick? They’d be after you too, logically, right?”

“Well, it’s all we’ve got.” Alyx says. “I’ll meet you there at the base, Darnold. Gordon shouldn’t take much longer than me. Thank you.”

Alyx terminates the call so she can get on the train, leaving Darnold to prepare. He still has his Combine gun—after some discussion with Beatrice, she tells him a little bit about how it works through pulse bursts rather than bullets, explaining a lot about the reloading process. Also, how it’s a miracle he even has one he can use—apparently, most Combine guns are encoded to a soldier’s genetics or something, meaning he found some special prototype. Beatrice gives him more weapons to work with; as Darnold is trying to figure out how to hide everything in his stolen uniform, he thinks back to their earlier conversation.

“So...I remember how _I_ got here. Kind of. I mean, I remember waking up here.” Darnold says. “You seem like you’ve been here a while, though. What _happened?_ ”

Beatrice leans back in her seat a little, crossing her legs and sighing. “Well, I got terminated from Black Mesa, after my department’s funding got cut. The cybermutts were...well...not a great idea, in retrospect. But _anyway,_ yeah, I wasn’t there for the Black Mesa incident that everyone talks about. It’s always been sort of weird, y’know? From my perspective, I get fired, I move on to work at another place for a few years, and suddenly, all these portal storms start hitting, and everyone says it all stemmed from Black Mesa. I’ve sort of wondered if I got transported back in time, to some other timeline. It’s a wonder I survived at all, after what happened to America during the Seven Hour War.”

“What...happened to America?”

Beatrice presses her lips into a thin line. “Well...let’s just say, don’t count on being able to go and pick anything up from your old place.”

Darnold frowns, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “Man. What if my friends are still there? What if they didn’t make it _here?_ ”

Beatrice reaches out to put a hand on Darnold’s shoulder. “...Sorry, dude. I’m sure everyone’s fine. I hear great things about Gordon—hopefully, Nova Prospekt will be nothing to you guys, after what I heard you did during the resonance cascade. Everyone else...well, we’re keeping our eyes peeled.”

Darnold nods. “Yeah. Nothing to do but keep going, I guess.”

“Yeah! That’s the rebellion spirit.” Beatrice says, punching Darnold playfully on the shoulder. “Hey, if you run into any issues in Nova Prospekt and need anything...y’know. _Replaced,_ I’m your guy! I may not be able to give you anything cool like extendo-arms, but hey, it’ll get the job done.”

Darnold shudders. “Uhhh—thanks. I sincerely, desperately hope I don’t need that.”

Eventually, after Darnold is fairly certain he’s prepared for Nova Prospekt, he’s sitting against the wall when he hears someone stepping inside. He looks up, finding Alyx, looking ragged and exhausted as she brushes her fingers through her hair and leans against the wall.

“Hey, guys.” She greets with a sigh. “Thanks for helping me, Darnold. Seriously.”

Darnold stands up politely with a nod. “Yeah, sure.”

It isn’t long after that they start to hear what must be Gordon arriving—some kind of car sliding to a stop on the sand just outside. Darnold hears Sunkist first, barking before she comes barreling into the shack. She’s a bit of a grisly sight, now, blood soaking her front, but she greets Darnold with the same enthusiasm as always, putting her paws up on his shoulders and moving in to lick his face.

“Augh! Sunkist, don’t, you’re all bloody!” Darnold exclaims, turning his face away and grabbing her muzzle so she can’t lick him. “Gross, _gross,_ get off me, please.”

As Sunkist complies with a disappointed huff, Gordon steps into the shack, similarly blood-soaked and heaving out a dramatic sigh. Once he spots Darnold, his face splits into a tired smile, approaching and wrapping Darnold up in his arms. Darnold grimaces at the blood he’s getting all over him as he hugs him back.

“God, I’m _so_ fucking glad to see you, dude.” He says before turning towards the door, looking up towards the sky. “Hey, let’s get some pogs in the chat for Darnold, am I right?”

“What?”

“Oh, you know.” Gordon waves his hand dismissively. “I thought I was gonna lose my fucking _mind_ down in the mines outta Ravenholm, so I’ve been trying to talk to the audience. But that sorta just turned into me talking like I’m doing a stream...I haven’t slept in, like, two days. Also, you fucking lied to me, the antlions are _not_ great.”

“Oh, yeah, you guys all disappeared right after Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s wedding, so...” Darnold recalls. “Hey, wait— _audience?_ ”

“Yeah. Didn’t I mention that?” Gordon asks, brushing loose hair out of his face. “The player said people are watching us. I remembered that while I was down there.”

Darnold glances around self-consciously. “What? How?”

Gordon shrugs.

“Listen, guys, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we _really_ gotta get moving.” Alyx interrupts. “Darnold has at least some idea of what it looks like in there. Once we’re in, I can get into the computers to find my dad, but with Darnold’s experience in there and the Combine disguise, I think we have a pretty good chance of getting in and out without _too_ much trouble.”

“Oh, yeah, pog. So how are we doing this? Are we just rushing it? I have a pretty good track record of just rushing it at this point. It seems like things only go worse if I think about it, like, literally at all.” Gordon says, pulling his hair out of its messy bun to redo it. He grimaces as he seems to realize the amount of debris and blood in his hair while he reties it.

“Well, like I said to Alyx, I could always pretend I captured you guys.” Darnold points out, pulling the mask on over his face. “ _Gordon Freeman and Alyx—uhh, I don’t know your last name—have been captured. Proceeding to Nova Prospekt._ ”

Gordon laughs. “Hey, let me try that.”

Gordon pulls it off of Darnold’s head, despite his protests, and puts it on. “ _Darnold Pepper, you’re under arrest for being rude to Sunkist._ ” He says, voice distorted by the mask.

“She’s covered in blood! I don’t want that on my face.”

“Guys! My dad is in fucking Nova Prospekt, can we get it together, please?” Alyx snaps.

Gordon pulls the mask off. “Right, sorry.”

“Regarding the plan, I’ve been listening to the radio chatter all day.” Darnold says before pulling the mask back on. “I don’t think it’ll fly if we just walk right up to the gates, they report back to their like, base or whatever for everything. If I report that I have you guys, they’ll be expecting us.”

“Oh. Alright, that’s worth a shot.” Alyx says.

“Uhh—really quick, what’s your last name, again?”

“Vance.”

Darnold clears his throat and holds the radio up to his mask, waiting for a break in chatter. Once it’s quiet for a moment, he presses the button. “Uhh—s-sweeper has captured Alyx Vance and Gordon Freeman along the coast. Asking...further advisement.”

There’s a brief pause. “What is your location?” A voice replies.

Darnold swallows hard. “N-near Nova Prospekt.”

“Take them in. We’ll hold Alyx with Eli Vance and prepare Freeman for transport to the Citadel.”

“Copy that.”

After Darnold clips his radio back on his belt, both he and Alyx let out a relieved sigh.

“Wow, you’re catching onto all this pretty fast.” Alyx says as they all start out the door. “If we make it through this, you and Barney might make a pretty good team.”

As they’re starting to leave, Darnold glances back when he hears the _click-clack_ of Sunkist’s claws against the wood. He pauses, turning to face her. “Sunkist, it might be better if you stay here. You’d probably blow our cover.”

Sunkist whines deeply, putting her paws up on Darnold’s shoulders again.

“I know, I’m sorry, baby. We’ll be back soon.” Darnold promises, scratching underneath her chin. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”

Darnold, Alyx, and Gordon make their way along the dark coastline, fortunately unbothered by antlions. Darnold finds with great relief his mask has some special lenses that make it easy to see in the dark; while Alyx and Gordon stumble along a little, Darnold being sure to make it look like he’s restraining them, he leads them as carefully as he can. Soon, they approach the first watchtower, which trains a spotlight on them as they walk by. After some brief radio chatter, he can hear them confirming he’s the one with Alyx and Gordon, and they walk past without any trouble.

“So...hey, how long has it been since the Black Mesa incident, again?” Darnold asks Alyx.

“About 20 years.” Alyx replies. “I was just a baby when it happened.”

“...Damn. 20 years.” Darnold murmurs. “We just...skipped right ahead, into some alternate reality. Y’know, even Beatrice came from our universe, initially. I knew her, kinda. My friends knew her better than I did.”

“What, seriously?” Gordon questions in awe. “Y’know—Dr. Breen’s here, too. I wonder if it was the same for him.”

“You think it has something to do with the portal storms?” Alyx asks.

Darnold shrugs. “I think it’s more to do with that guy in the suit we were talking about. You got cut off by the attack before we got to talk about it more. You said all that stuff about a suit guy and a Combine prison sounded familiar...? Do you think they’d, like, hold him in Nova Prospekt, maybe?”

Alyx shakes her head. “No, Nova Prospekt isn’t really a _prison,_ anymore. It’s...actually much worse. It’s where they take people who stand up against the Combine to...turn them into soldiers or stalkers for the Combine, essentially, among other things. Which is why it’s _really_ important we get my dad out.”

“What, like, mind control or something? That’s fucked up.” Gordon comments with a frown.

Alyx gives him a look that gives Darnold the impression it’s much worse than that before moving on. “I think I’m sorta remembering something to do with that thing attached to the Citadel...”

Alyx pauses for a long moment, staring down at the ground carefully as she walks.

“I think I...went there.” She mutters thoughtfully. “I just don’t really remember it all that clearly, it almost feels like a dream. I don’t remember what I found in there...it seemed really important at the time. I think I talked to a guy in a suit afterwards. Or maybe before?”

Gordon cries out in shock, suddenly, reeling backwards out of Darnold’s grasp. Darnold draws his gun, searching for some sort of threat, but he doesn’t see anything—how would Gordon have spotted something he couldn’t, considering he doesn’t have cool night vision goggles? He wonders.

“What is it?” Darnold asks.

Gordon lets out a long noise halfway between a groan and a sigh as he doubles over, resting his hands on his knees. “Oh, Christ. I thought I heard one of those little headcrab fuckers.” He laughs suddenly, approaching Darnold and letting him take his arm so he can lead him again. “Ohhh, this is really gonna suck.”

“...Are you good, Gordon?” Darnold asks, holding onto him a little tighter as he guides him along.

“I haven’t slept in two days, an entire alien government is trying to kill me in particular, everyone’s expecting me to defeat that alien government, I spent hours in dark mines full of headcrabs and zombies, I met a man I thought I was hallucinating in Black Mesa, and I have no idea where my son is.” Gordon says exhaustedly. “I think I’m doing like, _relatively_ good, considering the circumstances.”

“Well—sure, I guess.” Darnold replies awkwardly. “If we need to stop for a second...”

“No, no, it’s good.” Gordon insists. “Let’s just keep going. We’ll get through it. I have a pretty good track record of not dying so far.”

“Hey.”

Darnold jumps in surprise as another Combine soldier approaches them, gun out, but held in a passive position.

“Y-yes?” Darnold stammers.

“We heard you didn’t have a vehicle, I’m here to take you up to Nova Prospekt.” The soldier responds, nodding to an armored car nearby.

Darnold wonders briefly how he hadn’t seen or heard the car approaching. Maybe he’d been waiting there? He thinks. “Oh. Good. L-let’s go, citizens.”

Darnold takes Alyx and Gordon to the back of the car before climbing into the front, sitting stiffly in the passenger seat as they’re driven right up to the gates of Nova Prospekt. Darnold hops out once the car comes to a stop, holding onto Alyx and Gordon’s arms to walk them through the entrance. Two guards approach them, stopping them from getting further into the building.

“We’ll take it from here.” One of them says, each one taking Gordon and Alyx and roughly pushing them further in. “You’re dismissed. Back to your post.”

Darnold exchanges a look with them as they’re pushed further in. Okay, the plan is falling apart already, Darnold thinks. As he’s starting to pull out a gun, Alyx suddenly shakes her head, making some meaningful gesture towards Gordon. Darnold isn’t sure what it means, but he’s quickly left behind, unsure what he’s meant to do.

They’re making it further inside, he thinks—that _was_ part of the plan. And they have concealed weapons on them; they can defend themselves if they need to. Darnold got them past the many layers of security into the building—hopefully, that’s enough, he thinks as some other guard pushes him back out the door.


	41. Teleport

Bubby pokes their head out the door to the basement section of the building they’re hiding in, finally faced with the dark night air, as they’ve been waiting for. They head back to the room they’ve been waiting in with the alien, shaking them awake.

“Time to go.” Bubby announces. “You still can’t walk, can you?”

The alien shakes their head, still struggling to move even the slightest amount. “Alas, it will take quite some time and healing to return to full strength.”

“Alright. C’mon.” Bubby hoists the alien up onto their back again, beginning to trudge to the exit. “So you have no idea where to go?”

“Unfortunately, I do not. Apologies, I am most certainly posing you quite a burden.”

“Whatever, it’s fine.” Bubby huffs, peeking out the exit door again. They duck back inside as one of those floating cameras passes by, chirping the whole way. Once it’s gone, Bubby heads up the stairs, keeping to the shadows cautiously.

Bubby had expected the amount of cops to peter off as the night went on; however, as they slink around the city with the alien, they still find an intimidating amount of them out and about. They push forward cautiously, slipping into a building when a pair of cops start turning the corner into the courtyard they’re in. Pressing themself against the wall—or, more accurately, pinning the alien uncomfortably between themself and the wall—they hold their breath, waiting for the cops to pass so they can keep going.

“Hey, you.”

Bubby jumps, releasing one of the alien’s arms wrapped around them to get a controlled flame going in their palm. They look at the person nearby, leaning around the corner towards the stairwell. He’s wearing the cop uniform, just without the mask. Bubby nearly burns him to a crisp right then and there, only stopped by one thing:

He looks _exactly_ like Gordon’s ex.

“Are you Bubby?” He asks, looking Bubby over. He doesn’t look as surprised by the fire as most people tend to be, Bubby notes, but still at least wary of it.

Bubby looks back at him cautiously, still holding the flame out. “...Barnaby?”

The man chuckles a little, shaking his head. “Just like Gordon, huh? No, I’m not Barnaby, I’m Barney.” He introduces, glancing back at the door. “Don’t let my uniform fool you, I’m with the rebellion. C’mon, Gordon’s been looking for you. I’ll take you to Dr. Kleiner’s lab, you’ll be safe with us for now.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Bubby asks skeptically.

Barney shrugs. “Well, you said you know some sorta...alternate version of me or something, right? I’m sure he’s plenty trustworthy, I guess it’d stand to reason that I’m trustworthy, too.”

“I didn’t really trust that Barnaby guy.” Bubby scoffs.

“C’mon, I helped Gordon out already! I can get you off the street, at the very least. If you follow me, you’ll see the other rebels know me.”

“I believe he is to be trusted.” The alien chimes in thoughtfully. “While the Combine certainly employs humans to retain control on the population, those who are turned to work as soldiers undergo brutal procedures. The Barney appears to be fully unaltered.”

“...Fine. Alright. But you’re on thin ice, Barney.” Bubby grumbles.

Hesitantly, Bubby follows behind Barney, walking right through other people’s bare-bones looking apartments to get through the building. These apartments truly have no privacy; walls have been torn down, and they rarely even have front doors. Many of them are asleep on couches or mats on the floor, while others sit awake watching a TV with Dr. Breen’s face broadcast on them. Bubby stops to look at one, Barney pausing ahead of them to let them watch for a moment.

“...cannot let these anti-citizen extremists fool you.” Dr. Breen says. “Gordon Freeman and his followers want you to believe in a chaotic world. Do not give in to fear of an ordered society; as I’ve said, archaic things like human instinct are not to be listened to, if we want to reach the peak of our evolution.”

“What the fuck has he been _doing?_ ” Bubby questions. “Last I heard from him, he was shelling out all of Black Mesa’s funds for reparations or whatever after the resonance cascade.”

“...Well, I don’t know how things went in _your_ universe, but Breen’s been the Administrator of Earth ever since the Seven Hour War.” Barney explains, nodding for Bubby to follow.

Bubby trails after him. “That man has no fucking business running the entire _planet._ ” They grumble.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Barney agrees with a bitter laugh. “I think you’ll get along just fine with everyone in the rebellion, Bubby.”

Bubby follows Barney through the city quietly, until they reach an elevator. At the next level down, Barney takes them through some secret entrance behind a fake vending machine, leading Bubby into a lab.

“Is your friend hurt?” Barney asks as Bubby investigates the lab closely.

There are a couple different computer stations and some interesting looking equipment they want to take a closer look at. They set the alien down more carefully, this time, leaned against the wall.

“I seek the aid of my brothers.” The alien tells him. “I cannot speak to them through the Vortessence anymore. I will need assistance reaching them.”

“Okay, well, I’ll call another one of our bases and see what I can do.” Barney says, turning to one of the computers.

“Is Gordon here?” Bubby asks, glancing upward as they hear shuffling on a platform above them.

An old man pokes his head over the edge, looking down at them carefully. He looks almost _exactly_ like Bubby does—and more than that, they feel something existential wash over them as they lock eyes. They know nothing about this man, not even his name, but somehow, on a deep level, they _know_ him.

“Ah! You must be one of Gordon’s friends.” The man calls, heading to a ladder nearby. He climbs down slowly and painstakingly, putting a hand to his hip once he reaches the bottom. “Unfortunately, Gordon is no longer here. He headed for Eli’s lab, and then...well...”

“Well, we found another one of your friends, Darnold. Now they’re both headed for Nova Prospekt.” Barney sighs.

“I have no idea what that place is.” Bubby says flatly. “Have you heard anything about my husband? A man named Dr. Harold Coomer?”

“Nothing, just yet, I’m afraid.” The man in front of Bubby replies. “We’ll push a message out to the rebellion that we’ve located you, for Gordon to receive once he and Darnold...hopefully, make it back from Nova Prospekt. What is your name, again?”

“Dr. Bubby Coomer.” Bubby replies. “Uhh—they/them. Or he/him too, I guess.”

“Ah, of course. I’m Dr. Isaac Kleiner. He/him.” Dr. Kleiner reaches out to shake Bubby’s hand.

Bubby returns the gesture awkwardly. “You said ‘Nova Prospekt’ like it’s dangerous.” Bubby comments, crossing their arms over their chest. “Are Gordon and Darnold going to be okay?”

“Now, I’m certain they’ll be alright. They survived the resonance cascade, after all, and Darnold already broke out of Nova Prospekt once.” Dr. Kleiner rambles, joining Barney at the computer he’s currently using. “Were you about to send a message out, Barney?”

“Yeah, I was just about to call base 16. Bubby’s vort friend needs some help.”

Bubby looks curiously around the lab as Barney and Dr. Kleiner work. They see papers left out with familiar terminology to what Bubby worked with in Black Mesa; they turn to ask Dr. Kleiner about it, finding that Dr. Kleiner is already preoccupied with a video call as Barney moves on around the makeshift table setup to help the alien up somewhere else.

“Have you heard anything from Alyx, Gordon, or Darnold yet?” Dr. Kleiner asks someone on the screen.

“No, not yet.” A familiar voice sighs on the other end.

“Beatrice?” Bubby asks, peeking over Dr. Kleiner’s shoulder.

Beatrice gasps, leaning in towards the camera. “Bubby! Oh my god! It’s been _ages!_ ”

“I can’t believe you’re still _alive._ ” Bubby points out. “I thought you died in the resonance cascade.”

“No, I got fired before that. How’s Harold doing?”

Bubby crosses their arms uncomfortably. “...I don’t know. I haven’t found him, yet. But we _did_ get married, right before we got here.”

“Oh, shit! Congratulations!”

“Well, Beatrice, if you wouldn’t mind letting everyone else know Bubby has been located, I really must get to work on the teleporter.” Dr. Kleiner says, adjusting his glasses on his face.

“Teleporter?” Bubby asks curiously. “I saw some of your work over there. Are you using a similar model to what we used to collect samples from Xen?”

“Indeed we are, actually! Fine observation.” Dr. Kleiner responds eagerly. “We’re working on _local_ teleport technology to benefit the rebellion. We just had it working yesterday morning, but...something _highly_ unfortunate happened. Our teleporter now needs repairs.”

“I’d call it more of a blessing, if it weren’t for that damn thing wrecking the teleporter.” Barney murmurs to himself.

“Ohh, I _do_ hope Lamarr is safe, wherever she may be.” Dr. Kleiner sighs.

“If I’m going to be here a while, I can see what I can do to help.” Bubby offers. “I worked in the anomalous materials department in Black Mesa, with my husband and our good friend.”

“Ah, of course! It’ll be an immense help, having someone with your background working with me. I’ll show you to the teleporter.” Dr. Kleiner says with an excited smile, walking straight away from the still-running video call. As he opens a secret panel in the back of the room, Bubby turns back to the screen.

“Beatrice?” Bubby asks.

“Yeah?”

“Whenever Gordon and Darnold get back, can you have them call here so I can talk to them?”

“Of course, Bubby.” Beatrice replies. “Talk to you later. Good luck with the teleporter.”

“Thanks.”

The call ends after that, the screen immediately turning black. Bubby turns to follow Dr. Kleiner into the secret back room to get a feel for what they’re going to be working with.


	42. White Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: more on the partner death

Harold stands at the makeshift gate of the facility he and his clones had walked to. It took about a full day, but they’ve made it—now it’s just a matter of getting help figuring out where the hell he’s been taken to. There’s a rickety-looking watchtower off to the side of the gate, with someone gawking at him and his clones from above.

“Are you...” The person inside says, looking down at something in his hands. “Dr. Harold Coomer?”

“That’s me!” Harold replies, as do a couple of his clones simultaneously.

“Wait—which of you is Dr. Coomer?”

Harold glances at his clones. “Well, all of us. We’re all Dr. Coomer. We’re clones.”

“...Gordon Freeman didn’t mention anything about clones.”

“Gordon?!” Harold gasps. “Is Gordon here?”

“No, last I heard, he was headed for the coast.” The person above says, turning to something else inside the watchtower. “Here, I’ll let you all in, and we’ll get you caught up on what’s going on.”

The gate in front of Harold and his clones opens up. The group heads inside, the gate closing behind them.

“Just keep going down that path there and get inside. I’ll let them know you’re coming.” The person calls as his clones proceed down the path.

“Thank you very much for your help!” Harold calls back before jogging to keep up with his clones.

The group is let inside, where they find dozens of people mingling around among seemingly completely peaceful aliens—exactly the ones they’d been fighting in Black Mesa, Harold is sure. A couple of the clones immediately cower by instinct; all the guns around them certainly doesn’t help, either, Harold thinks. Harold reaches out to the closest one.

“They all seem to be peaceful.” Harold points out.

The clone looks up, frowning deeply as one of the aliens approaches.

“You are the Harold Coomer?” They ask in a deep, gritty voice.

Harold nods. “That’s us.”

“There is someone who is very eager to speak to you. Come.” They say, indicating for Harold to follow.

Harold and his group of clones follow the alien deeper into the facility. As they walk, Harold nudges past the ones at the front to talk directly to the alien.

“Umm, excuse me. Where are we?” Harold asks.

“This is White Forest.” The alien replies, opening a heavy metal door. “You are quite a distance from the one who is most eager to see you. It would be an arduous journey; particularly, now that the Free Man has returned.”

“Free Man...?” Harold echoes.

Harold doesn’t get an answer. The alien stops at an archaic computer setup, clicking buttons with their index claws. Harold stands by, fiddling with his tie anxiously as he waits. Soon, the screen in front of them changes. Harold gasps at the face of his husband, leaning in eagerly.

“Bubby!” He blurts out.

“Ah—no, apologies.” The man replies, and Harold takes a step back, face flushing with embarrassment. He looks almost _exactly_ like Bubby. Maybe if Harold hadn’t been so frazzled from such a long walk, he would’ve caught it before blurting out his name. “I _do_ see the resemblance, but I’m Dr. Kleiner. Bubby _is_ here, somewhere—Dr. Coomer?”

Harold is about to respond to his name, but Dr. Kleiner is calling further into his lab. He’s never heard Bubby referred to by his relatively new last name like that before; it brings a loving smile out of him as he leans in hopefully again, watching the face of his husband appear behind Dr. Kleiner. Bubby’s face lights up, a wide, relieved smile spreading across his face.

“Harold!” Bubby exclaims. “Oh my god, it’s been so long, I thought something horrible must have happened to you!”

“I’m fine, Bubby.” Harold replies as the alien takes a step back, giving Harold a little bit of privacy. “Where are you? I’ll come and find you.”

“I’m in a place called City 17. Where are _you?_ ”

“Someplace called White Forest.”

Bubby frowns. “I don’t know where that is.”

“White Forest is indeed a ways away.” Dr. Kleiner chimes in with a sympathetic tone. “Dr. Coomer will certainly be safe, though, if he chooses to remain there. Safer than _we_ are, here in City 17.”

“If it’s not safe, I ought to be there!” Harold protests. “Bubby, is anyone else with you?”

“Not necessarily. But I know where Gordon and Darnold are.” Bubby replies, pushing his glasses up on his face. “They’re in some place called Nova Prospekt, breaking someone out of not-prison.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story.” Bubby says dismissively. “Oh, also, I’ve decided to use they/them now. He/him is still alright, too, and you can still call me your husband, I like that—I’m like...I don’t know, I’ll figure out how to describe it all later, I have bigger fish to fry right now.”

“Oh, of course, Bubby.” Harold says with a comforting smile that quickly fades as he thinks about who that left unaccounted for. “You don’t know where Joshua is? Or Tommy or Benry?”

“...I don’t.” Bubby says quietly, crossing their arms over their chest. “Maybe Gordon and Darnold found something out before they left for Nova Prospekt, though. I’m just waiting to hear back from them.”

“Can...I speak to Bubby as well?”

Harold turns to one of the clones behind him. He’s fairly certain this is the one most commonly wishing he could return to Harold’s consciousness.

“What...?” Bubby asks.

“O-of course.” Harold says, stepping aside and placing hand on his clone’s shoulder. “Bubby, something rather strange has happened, since I woke up.”

Bubby’s eyes widen as the clone stepped into view. Another couple stand on their toes behind the first clone, trying to see Bubby closer as well.

“What? How many of them are there?” Bubby asks in awe.

“Five.” Harold replies. “I have no idea why this has happened. If _all_ clones were going to get...ejected from me, then I would understand a little more, but...”

Bubby looks thoughtful, biting their lip for a moment.

“If it’s not safe in City 17, you should come to us.” One of the clones suggests.

“It’s not that simple, anymore.” Bubby sighs. “Apparently, City 17 is closed off. It’d be hard to get in or out, and the cops are looking for me, after I broke out of the Citadel. Plus, Dr. Kleiner needs my help repairing the teleporter.”

“You broke out of the _what?_ ” A clone asks.

“A teleporter?” Another adds.

“Ah, yes, the teleporter.” Kleiner says exhaustedly. “I’m sorry, Dr. Coomer, but I for one must return to work. Alyx, Darnold, Gordon, and Eli are going to need this in operation very soon. We’ve worked tirelessly all night to get it back up and running, and we have no time to lose if we want it finished in time for them.”

Bubby frowns, looking back at the screen. “...He’s right. Harold, don’t do anything stupid. We’ll meet up soon, okay?”

“But Bubby, I can’t just wait here if you all are in danger!” Harold argues. “I’ll find a way to City 17 to help you.”

“I’ve drawn enough attention to this lab as it is, we don’t need you drawing any more to get here.” Bubby points out irritably. “ _Stay put._ If it’s safer there, maybe we’ll all come to you, so don’t move.”

Harold bites his lip, stomach churning a little. He feels the alien emotions of the other clones surge through him as well—mostly, they’re relieved to hear they’re somewhere safe, but just like him, they’re filled with concern for Bubby.

“...Okay.” Harold murmurs.

“And...Harold?”

“Yes, Bubby?”

Bubby looks uncomfortable, with an expression they usually make when they’re trying very hard to be genuine. “Once this teleporter is working and we have the time to talk again, I’d... _really_ like to talk to you about something. Whether I teleport there with everyone else or call you, whatever.”

Harold nods. “Oh, of course.”

“I’d better get going. I love you, Harold.”

“I love you too, Bubby. Good luck.”

A couple of the other clones chime in, telling Bubby they love them as well. Bubby looks slightly flustered by all the attention before the call ends, leaving them with a blank screen.

“Forgive me. I could not help but overhear your call.” The alien says, looking back to Harold and his clones. “If your friends wish to join you here, a functioning teleporter may be needed. You all would do well to discuss the matter with the Magnusson. Come, I will lead the way.”

Harold and his clones follow the alien further into the facility, down elevators and hallways until they reach some sort of lab. There’s a man stood inside—someone Harold felt like he almost knows, strangely. He tilts his head curiously, as do his clones, as the alien the man is currently speaking to directs his attention to the new group.

“Excuse me, this is a closed lab, I don’t have time for random visits!” The man huffs irritably.

“Forgive me for the intrusion.” The alien says, clasping their claws together. “The Magnusson could be providing a great service to the friends of the Free Man, should he return his focus to the teleporter, as the Kleiner has previously suggested.”

“Oh, this again.” Dr. Magnusson sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I _am_ working on the teleporter, between other projects. You _do_ realize how busy I am, correct?”

“City 17 is currently in growing crisis. The Magnusson may want to consider prioritizing the teleporter, if he wishes to provide a safe means of transport for his associates.” The other alien chimes in.

Dr. Magnusson grumbles to himself as he thinks it over. “...Right. With _Gordon Freeman’s_ return, everyone’s all worked up, now.” He mutters thoughtfully. “Fine. I’ll get back to work on the teleporter, but don’t expect me to work miracles.”

“Well, if you need assistance, surely I could be of help.” Harold suggests, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “I’m Dr. Harold Coomer. I used to work in anomalous materials in Black Mesa—among many other departments.”

Dr. Magnusson looks Harold over, furrowing his brow and shaking his hand as he glances at the clones. “Yes, I heard about you, after Dr. Freeman asked everyone watch for his friends. I didn’t realize you had...brothers...with you.”

“No, these are my clones, actually.” Harold tells him, glancing back at them. “We could speed things along significantly, if they all help as well. Right?”

Two of the clones agree as one of them shrinks back a little.

“I don’t know—I don’t actually recall very much about...all of this.” He murmurs. “I only worked in administration up until the resonance cascade.”

“I need some fresh air.” Another one—certainly the perpetually angry one, Harold thought—says, turning and leaving the lab.

Harold bites his lower lip, doing his very best not to grow frustrated with them.

“Well, if you worked in anomalous materials, I could certainly put you to work here.” Dr. Magnusson says. “I need to finish up some things up here before moving onto the teleporter. Uriah, show them to the teleporter, would you?”

The alien Dr. Magnusson had been speaking to nods. This one is wearing a lab coat, making them a little easier to distinguish; they begin walking further into the lab, towards one of the doors at the back. Harold starts to follow, two of his clones in tow, as the remaining two stand in place beside the other alien.

Harold pauses to call out to them. “Come along, I’m certain you two could be of great help.”

“Certainly, these iterations of the Harold could be of use in other places, if that is where they would be more comfortable.” The alien beside them says before turning to them. “Come, I will show you around White Forest.”

Harold watches them go, following the alien eagerly. They seem much more comfortable around them than Harold. He frowns as he hurries to catch up with the others. It’s one thing to feel rejected by someone else, but it’s particularly strange to have other versions of himself finding any opportunity to separate themselves from him.

As Harold and the others arrive in a small room with dozens of computers and what seems to be a teleporter, some sort of elevator-looking setup that leads up to nowhere, Uriah gathers together some documents.

“Here. The Harolds should acquaint themselves with the schematics of the teleporter.” They say, handing one of the clones the stack of documents. The clone begins flipping through them as the other one starts looking the teleporter over closely.

Harold watches them set to work with practiced ease; clones had worked together closely for many years, after all, and got into a familiar rhythm with each other quickly. Harold isn’t quite sure what to do with himself, though, as the other two work. He feels a claw on his shoulder, Uriah looking at him closely with many bright red eyes.

“Perhaps, you would like to take a walk.” Uriah says.

Harold nods slowly. “...Okay.”

Uriah leads Harold out of the lab, through the facility and out a back door, into the open air outside. Harold takes in a deep breath, appreciating the quiet away from the constant feedback-ish buzz in his skull from being around the clones. It had become easy to ignore it, after years of experience; still, it feels good to get a break from it in all the stress.

“The Harold appears to be at strife with his brothers.” Uriah comments. “Perhaps he needs guidance in order to work seamlessly with them in times as dark as these.”

Harold looks at them in surprise. Looking internally, within his own mind to his other clones, he finds the two that had gone with the first alien, talking with them about the experience of being clones. How frustrated they are with it, some of the pain it had caused them...

“During your call with your husband, and earlier with the Magnusson, you seemed to be rather dismissive of them. Attempting to assert leadership, where your brothers do not wish to be led.” Uriah continues, lacing their claws together as they walk.

“...Oh, but—you weren’t there when I was calling my husband.”

Uriah nods. “You are correct—I was not there, physically. However, with the Vortessence, the threads of reality that humans ordinarily cannot see, I was able to witness it through the eyes of my brothers. I am connected to all of them, and we work together as equals, sharing one another’s burdens and pains.”

Harold’s eyes widen. “Oh. You’re...you’re like me.”

Uriah nods. “When my brother learned of your shared consciousness, we felt a duty to help you make peace with yourself. Particularly after the kindness your husband showed to one of our brothers. A friend of the Bubby’s is eternally a friend of ours.”

“Ahh, Bubby helped one of you? That’s fantastic. They really are wonderful.” Harold replies with a fond smile, mixed with a bit of anxiety at their parting words. What had they wanted to talk to him about? He wonders faintly. “So, what do you mean, make peace with them? I’ve already tried so hard to help them, but they seem quite upset with me.”

“No matter how shared a consciousness is between other bodies—even sometimes within one, as displayed by some humans—the lived experiences of one will always alter them. A vortigaunt here, in the relative quiet of White Forest, is inevitably going to view the world differently from a vortigaunt in City 17, in the clutches of the Combine.” Uriah explains. “Even with the ability to see into another vortigaunt’s mind, view his hardship as though it were a memory, there is always a disconnect. Our shared experiences are not truly shared entirely. There remains a level of ‘me versus him’. That can, and has, and will continue to cause some strife between us. Our priorities, although normally shared, will not always be exactly the same.”

Harold nods in understanding. He knows this experience well.

“However, to allow this strife to overtake us will send a ripple of distrust amongst all of us.” Uriah continues. “The Harold cannot allow that disconnect to prevail. He cannot treat one Harold’s pain as though it is separate from his own. The vortigaunts have many burdens—burdens we all share, or else, we will crumple beneath our own weight. If one of us mourns a fallen friend, we all mourn, as they were just as much a friend of one as they were a friend of us all.”

Harold frowns. His clone is currently thinking of his prototype partner again, he recognizes; he’s sat in a chair with the other clone knelt by his side, doing his best to comfort him.

“Isn’t that overwhelming?” Harold asks. “It sounds like this world is very dangerous. Wouldn’t you be constantly thinking about everything difficult your brothers are going through, all the time?”

“Yes, it is overwhelming, at times.” Uriah tells him, nodding solemnly. “That is not due to the nature of our existence, though. That is the nature of suffering at the hands of the Combine. Any singular being may be just as overcome by tragedy and pain in this world as we are. We share our pain, and we share our triumphs. That is who we are as vortigaunts—and who _you_ can be, should you choose to make peace with your brothers.”

Harold stops walking, looking back towards White Forest as he fiddles with his fingers. Uriah pauses ahead of him, turning back to look at him patiently.

“Where would I even start?” Harold asks. “They don’t seem to want to listen to me.”

“Would you wish to listen to an iteration of yourself who treated your pain as trivial, but his own comfort as a priority over all else?” Uriah asks. “Make no mistake, that is not only _their_ frustration. You must listen to _them_ , and treat this frustration as your own. It _is_ your own. If you and your brothers are the same as the vortigaunts, your brothers will know when you truly understand. There is no room for lies or mistrust between brothers.”

Harold furrows his brow, easing himself down to sit on a rock nearby. “I—I don’t really feel like I understand. You’re telling me that they’re different from me—they _are,_ and I’m fully prepared to take their feelings seriously, of course. But you’re also telling me that I need to consider their feelings as my own, when I _know_ they’re different than me. I feel...guilt, but not grief. I still have my husband, while my clone lost someone he loved. That’s different. Wouldn’t that be unfair of me to act like I understand what he’s going through?”

“The Harold _must_ work to understand. His brother’s pain is his own pain. Truly, deep down, you _do_ know it. It is pushed aside into your brother, repressed, and must be unearthed if you wish to make peace with him. Do not let him face this alone—the grief must be shared among all brothers, if you wish to ease the pain.”

Harold looks down into his lap. He’s still wearing his wedding suit; a reminder of his position he had put himself in above his clones. He had the long-awaited reward of a free life with Bubby. Not just that, but he himself had been free to come and go from Black Mesa as he pleased; the clones, however, were as trapped as Bubby was. They found solidarity with the prototypes, an understanding that Harold was never going to have with his Bubby. At least, never _would_ have, if he didn’t accept the clones’ pain as his own.

Harold thinks back to the prototype the clone had lost. He hadn’t truly understood his death until they’d been split off; this particular clone had been killed during the resonance cascade before ever finding out what exactly happened to the prototype. But he remembers getting...a feeling, as they walked through the Lambda lab, seeing all the corpses of prototypes. Something deep down that Harold wasn’t even capable of unpacking at the time, due to the way the game took hold of his mind. And as soon as he _was_ capable of it after the departure from the game, he pushed it down further, refusing to acknowledge his loss.

He remembers looking at Bubby after the game ended, understanding in retrospect that it was hard to see them doing things that reminded him of the prototype. They weren’t the same, and that clone had come to learn that he couldn’t treat them that way, but they were still so similar—similar enough to cause twinges of grief, even in a part of him so deeply repressed, he couldn’t quite understand the sudden pains he felt.

Harold reaches internally to the clone still sat inside, finally tuning in voluntarily to his feelings, letting them wash over him. Immediately, tears begin to form in his eyes. Uriah sits down beside him, wrapping a bony arm around his shoulders as he starts sobbing into his hands. He loves Bubby dearly, that fact will never change as long as he lives—but the loss of the prototype is immense and unfair. He had been so kind and so loving, giving him the strength he needed to continue living independently from Harold in the oppressive walls of Black Mesa. Without him, he probably would have returned to Harold’s consciousness long before the resonance cascade.

It takes a long time before Harold feels recovered enough to stand. He pushes himself shakily up to his feet, wiping his eyes clumsily with the heel of his hand.

“How do you feel?” Uriah asks.

Harold sniffs, taking a steadying breath. As he looks internally again, he finds his clone relaxing a little as well, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“...I feel...hurt, and overwhelmed. But...it feels good to acknowledge it, somehow.” Harold says slowly.

Uriah nods. “It seems you understand now.”

Harold feels his ring on his finger carefully. “I think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got my parts therapy from the vortigaunts lads


	43. Gordon and Alyx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: perceived major character death

Darnold hadn’t been quite sure what to do after he was thrown out of Nova Prospekt. He ends up circling around it for a while, hoping to look like he was simply patrolling the building. He listens closely to the chatter on the radio as he walks, constantly updated on Gordon and Alyx’s status inside. They’d escaped from the guards they were initially taken in by, after they tried to take their weapons away. Alyx stays behind at points, accessing computers to help Gordon get through secure areas of the facility before catching up with him later. They make use of various Combine weapons, like their turrets, to use against the guards trying to apprehend them. They redirect the pod Eli is being held in to the teleportation chamber, taking Judith Mossman along with them and locking themselves inside. The teleporter is used, but Alyx and Gordon are still in the room—Judith has taken Eli to the Citadel.

Darnold would be chewing on his nails, if he wasn’t wearing gloves and a mask. Why did Judith take Eli to the Citadel? Wasn’t she on their side? And why aren’t they teleporting immediately to safety? He wonders. There’s nothing there for them in Nova Prospekt anymore, they should just cut their losses and regroup back at Dr. Kleiner’s lab—

There’s a sound so loud, Darnold feels like his skull has been physically cracked into. His ears ring as he’s knocked back by a blast of blistering hot air, ground rumbling beneath him as he falls to his side. Darnold heaves in a deep breath desperately, rolling over onto his back to look up. Smoke and dust are pouring up into the sky above him, stemming from the very building he’d been circling around endlessly.

“...Gordon?” Darnold asks uselessly, stumbling to his feet. “G-Gordon?!”

Darnold shakily starts towards the building. Other Combine soldiers and CPs are circling around it as well, now, digging each other out of chunks of building debris and shouting orders at each other. Darnold wants to take his mask off for fresh air, but there’s no fresh air to be taken in here—his mask protects him from harsh plumes of smoke and building dust. Parts of the building were blasted outward, but most of it has simply collapsed in on itself, crumbling and shifting as it settles underneath its own weight.

They must have gotten out, Darnold thinks. They must have teleported away, and the guards there at the moment never had the chance to report it back. Darnold starts walking away from the building numbly, along the coast back towards base 27.

By the time he gets back, he sees Beatrice stood outside, staring at the smoke off in the distance coming from Nova Prospekt. He pulls his mask away, immediately approached by Sunkist eagerly. She whines as she licks Darnold’s gloved hand, wagging her tail in small, tense motions.

“...Gordon and Alyx aren’t with you.” Beatrice says slowly.

Darnold shakes his head. “You...didn’t hear from them?”

Beatrice shakes her head as well.

Darnold drops to the sand underneath him. Sunkist nudges her head underneath his arms, letting out a deep whine as she drapes herself across his lap. Darnold leans over to bury his face in her fur, a numbness washing over his body as he sits there. He feels the sand shift beside him as Beatrice kneels down, draping an arm over Darnold’s shoulder.

“...I’m sorry.” She murmurs. “Umm...y’know, Bubby showed up at Kleiner’s lab. And Harold was found. Maybe you’d wanna talk to them?”

Darnold stands, following slowly behind Beatrice back inside.

LOADING...

  
  


**This program has stopped responding.**

Stop the program

>Wait for the program to respond

  
  


LOADING...

  
  


>I can't find Gordon...

>Oh my god. I shouldn't have taken my eyes off him. I needed to check on everyone else, too, but I KNEW he was in danger, I thought it would only be a second..._

  
  


LOADING...

  
  
  


Tommy knelt on the floor, hyperventilating with his head cradled in his hands. I stepped out of the void, manifesting as Tommy began patting the floor frantically.

“Sunkist!” Tommy shouted, peeling apart the lines in the floor to reach out of the void and into reality. “Sunkist, come back!”

Sunkist arrived shortly after, clipping up into the void through the floor, blood still soaking her front. Tommy didn’t care; he wrapped his arms around her tightly, gripping her fur in his fists as he struggled to breathe.

“Tommy?” Joshua asked, turning away from the TV.

“Do not...worry, Joshua.” I said, stepping down onto the floor and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Tommy will, be, okay.”

Tommy looked up, eyes glowing so brightly, Joshua had to shield his eyes. Tommy took a deep breath, closing his eyes tightly and calming himself before standing shakily.

“J-Joshua, ummm...” Tommy bit his lip, clearly struggling to speak. “Do you wanna—wanna...g-g-go play with Sunkist f-for a minute?”

I looked back at Sunkist, finding that in the blink of an eye, the blood soaking her fur was already gone. Joshua stood uncertainly, following Sunkist down a makeshift path into the void, where they were provided a new space to play for the time being while Tommy settled things with me.

Once Joshua was gone, Tommy looked back at me. He didn’t speak; however, I heard his concerns loud and clear. He was furious, heartbroken, terrified.

“I understand, how, you...feel, Tommy.” I told him. “I—am, very sorry, to see, you...like this. However—”

Tommy stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing me by the lapels of my suit. Being taller and physically stronger than myself, he found it easy to lift me off the ground. I allowed this, as I can break free at any time. Grief surrounded him almost palpably, filling the air around us until he found it nearly impossible to breathe again. He thought of how it was my fault. How, if it weren’t for my actions, he could have been back at home with Gordon and all their friends, living their lives together peacefully.

“Tommy. I am trying, to tell you—” I began, cut off briefly by Tommy letting me drop to the floor so he could turn away, wiping at his face. “Gordon...very, likely, is not gone.”

Tommy turned back to me with wide, hopeful eyes.

“This, is...a hard-set, event, within the game.” I informed him, brushing my suit off. “If things...went, the way they were intended, he will return in due time.”

 _How will we know, though?_ Tommy wondered.

“We...will...have, to see for ourselves.” I replied. “In the mean, time...the others are due to face...dangers, of their own.”

Tommy gritted his teeth. If the world around them was so dangerous, he thought, maybe he should bring them all into the void, where at least he had more control.

“Tommy, we have—been...over this.” I reminded him. “You may, have, _some_ control—I allow you to call Sunkist, and manifest things as needed. However, do not forget. This—is _my_ void. Integrated, with the void previously belonging, to, the player, but mine nonetheless. I will not, allow, them here. They cannot get...in my way, as Gordon gets closer to his goal.”

Tommy let out a low growl, dropping to the floor and reaching out. He reached towards Darnold, closing his eyes tightly.

“D-Darnold!” Tommy shouted.

LOADING...

Darnold is fairly certain he hears his name being called.

He looks up towards the roof, furrowing his brow as he listens closely. It’s not _physical,_ but somehow, he just knows someone is trying to reach him.

“Are you okay?” Beatrice asks.

Darnold nods slowly. “Y-yeah. I just...thought I heard something.”

“I’m gonna call Kleiner’s lab first, okay?” Beatrice says as she types a command into the computer. Shortly after, an image of Kleiner’s lab appears. “Dr. Kleiner? Bubby?”

Bubby appears on the screen shortly after, quickly followed by Dr. Kleiner.

“Darnold!” Bubby exclaims. “Thank fucking god you’re okay. Do you—...know if Gordon is okay?”

Darnold shakes his head slowly. “He...was down in the teleportation chamber right when it exploded. If he didn’t...make it to you guys...”

Dr. Kleiner nods solemnly, adjusting his glasses on his face and looking down at the table as Bubby’s shoulders slump downward a little, his expression falling.

“Yes...I’m...afraid the chances of Gordon and Alyx making it out of Nova Prospekt are...very slim.” Dr. Kleiner says quietly.

“Are you _sure?_ ” Bubby asks, leaning in closer to the screen. “Are you _sure_ you didn’t see them? Did you search for them? Did you look around the building, make sure they weren’t trapped inside?”

“I—...I checked the best I could.” Darnold replies uncertainly. “The building was collapsed in on itself, there wasn’t any way I could have gotten inside to look.”

One half of Darnold is convinced of the truth of that statement. How could he have gotten inside a collapsed, burning building to check for his friends? But on the other hand, what if he simply hadn’t tried hard enough? What if Gordon and Alyx could have survived if he had just _tried—_ or even found a way to go with them into Nova Prospekt?

Bubby stares down at the table, biting his lip. He slams his fist down on the desk and walks away suddenly, Dr. Kleiner watching him go sympathetically.

“I’m...very sorry.” Dr. Kleiner says carefully. “This truly is a dreadful loss...Gordon Freeman and Alyx both, not to mention Eli is still being held by the Combine...”

There’s a long moment of silence, Darnold uncertain what to say. He knows how to _feel_ —he _should_ be wracked with grief right now, horrified at the loss of one of his closest friends, but he just isn’t. He just stands there uselessly, staring at the screen, trying to figure out what he’s meant to do or say in a time like this. He’s never lost anyone, before.

How does he even begin to process that?


	44. Reunited

>This has gone on long enough. I may not be able to take full control, but I'm not going to sit around, anymore. I have to get in there and help them.

>There aren't a lot of safe places anymore after the 7 hour war, but I think I can find someone out of the way enough..._

I’m holding Joshua in my arms while I approach a house, in a really secluded area. It’s not White Forest; it’s somewhere off in the opposite direction, somewhere where there aren’t a lot of people actively working in the rebellion. Hopefully, that means it’ll be safer for as long as I’m going to need. I knock on the door and wait for the man I’m hoping for to answer.

He’s pretty much Barney, yeah—not really entirely in personality, but in appearance, definitely. He’s like all the different versions of me G-Man made. Not clones, really, but...sort of like when a kid online takes a picture of Sonic the Hedgehog and recolors it a little, and says it’s their OC. It’s just a low-effort way to quickly fill in blanks in the story. I mean, that’s what _we_ are, technically—Bubby’s a recolor of Kleiner, Darnold’s a recolor of Eli, it’s all pretty much the same with varying levels of thought put into it. The player wasn’t really all that creative with Barnaby, but he served the narrative purpose he was needed for, at least.

Barnaby looks surprised to see me. He asks what happened to me, how Joshua and me are the same age as when he saw us 20 years ago. I tell him it’s complicated, but if he thinks it’ll be safe, I would really, _really_ appreciate he watch over Joshua for a little while and keep him safe. I call Sunkist, and she arrives really soon after—even if something happens, Sunkist is strong, and I trust she would protect Joshua. I give her a very serious talking to about it and everything. It’ll be okay.

I haven’t _intentionally_ used portals before like I’ve seen G-Man do. I was trying before, when I was stuck in his void before all of this happened, but it just wasn’t working out. I try again, though, and this time, a doorway opens up in front of me. I cross through the void. I’ve learned more about a lot of my powers in general, and the ways I can influence reality ever since G-Man took over. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to control things when I’m out of the void. I assume he stays there for a reason. I open up another door inside the void, leading to where I need to go next.

  
  
  
  


I appear next to the shack of base 27 as Darnold is sitting outside of it. He still isn’t wearing the CP mask, showing deep bags underneath his eyes. He looks so sad. I approach him, and when he locks eyes with me, his eyes widen, tears quickly forming as he springs off the ground and wraps me up in a tight hug.

“Oh my god, _Tommy._ ” Darnold sobs. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so sorry, I’m so, _so_ sorry. Gordon, it’s—it’s my fault, he’s...”

I rub his back comfortingly as he trails off. “It’s okay, Darnold. I know—I know about Gordon. I think...I don’t...know for sure. But—there’s a good chance he’ll be okay.”

Darnold pulls away, wiping at the tears flowing down his face. “What do you mean?”

I look away. “It’s—uhh, it’s complicated. I heard from G-Man that, um, the explosion is a, uhh—a hard-set event in the game, and like, I really honestly don’t think he’d let Gordon die like that, he needs him for his plan I think. I don’t know when we’ll find out if he’s okay. But...eventually.”

Darnold nods, sniffing and taking a deep breath. “Where have you been all this time? Are you okay? And—” Darnold pauses, looking around me. “Do you know where Josh is?”

“Joshua is somewhere safe.” I tell him reassuringly. “I was—I was watching over him, in G-Man’s void up until now. I just...after Gordon...I can’t sit up there and wait, anymore. So I—umm, I found Barnaby, and I’m going to help you guys as much as I can.”

“Barnaby’s here, too? Yeah, Beatrice is right inside here.” Darnold says, nodding to the shack. “How far away is Joshua? Are we gonna be able to get to him safely if something happens?”

“It’s—trust me, it’s gonna be okay.” I say, glancing up at the sky. It’s already getting late again. “We have to get moving. It’s—I think we should all meet up in City 17. I have an idea about what we have to do.”

I turn and head into the shack. The other people inside are asleep already, which is fine, I really don’t have the time or energy to talk to anyone else. I grab a spare set of those civilian clothes and put them on instead. I’ve been wearing my Minion pajamas for a really, _really_ long time. When I’m done changing, I grab one of the guns Darnold has strapped to him.

“Hey, before we get moving, we should call Bubby to let him know we’re coming.” Darnold suggests, looking back inside.

“Oh, yeah, okay.” I reply. “Also, Bubby uses they/them too, now.”

“Oh—okay. Did you already talk to them?”

“It’s...complicated. Hold on.” I say as we head back inside, and I start a call up to Dr. Kleiner’s lab. “Hello? Bubby?”

Bubby appears on the screen, looking more exhausted than I’ve ever seen them. Their glasses are hooked onto the collar of a really faded college t-shirt Dr. Kleiner must have loaned them, and they’re rubbing at their eyes as they squint at the screen. Finally, they put on their glasses, and their eyes widen.

“Tommy!” Bubby exclaims. “Oh my god, you’re okay! Where have you _been?_ ”

“Umm—I’ll explain everything later.” I say. “We’re coming to City 17. You should call Dr. Coomer and let him know he should teleport to Dr. Kleiner’s lab as soon as he can. He, and however many clones are willing to help.”

Bubby nods, a dumbfounded look spreading on their face. “Okay. Uhh—Tommy, hold on.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you...” Bubby looks down, chewing on their lip for a second. “Did you hear about Gordon already?”

“It’s okay. I did. I think it’s all gonna be okay.” I reassure him. I’m not totally certain about that, but it’s easier to tell everyone that than it is to get caught up in worrying when we have so much else to be doing. “We’ll be there soon. Okay?”

Bubby nods again, their brow furrowing. “Guys...be safe.”

“Okay. You too.”

I end the call after that, and me and Darnold have to pause to figure out how we’re going to get to City 17. Honestly, I’m sure I could just use the portals to get us both there, but I’m worried about taking Darnold through the void with G-Man there. I don’t really know what he’s going to pull, considering he was talking about how he doesn’t want any of them in the void. Maybe getting there ourselves without teleporting is a safer bet for now, when we really don’t _have_ to teleport. Better to save that until we absolutely have to. So we go to the really shitty car that Gordon had taken to get here, instead. It only has the driver’s seat, so we have to take a minute to figure out how we’re going to both get to City 17 with it. Suddenly, we hear an antlion call beside us as the sand begins to shift. An antlion pops out, skittering up to Darnold and sniffing his hand.

“Baby!” Darnold greets with a smile. He scratches its head, earning an affectionate clicking sound from it. “I’d take you with me, but I don’t think it’s gonna be safe for you in the city. Probably best if you stay here.”

“Did you...name it Baby?” I ask with a smile.

Darnold gives me a surprised, confused look. “Huh? No. They’re just babies, I don’t know.”

I can’t help but laugh. It’s _really_ cute, how he just indiscriminately calls things he finds cute babies like that—especially with the antlions, I think. It’s probably not ethical to keep one as a pet, I guess, but it’d be really cute if he could. He seems to like them a lot. We have to get going, though, so we quickly figure out how we’re gonna drive back. I take the driver’s seat while Darnold stands on the rack hooked on the back for ammo, holding onto the wire framing that provides the driver the vaguest sense of protection possible. I try to drive carefully, but it’s kind of hard to when antlions are popping up all around us. Darnold screams a lot of the way there.

At least the roads along Highway 17 aren’t as dangerous, anymore, with the Combine focused more between the remains of Nova Prospekt and City 17. Also, Gordon killed a _lot_ of soldiers on the way here. Getting into City 17 without those underground canals would be a lot harder if I didn’t have my powers. I’m able to stop time so we can slip by the CPs easily, so walking through the high-security city ends up being a lot more calm than the drive along the beach.

“So...what are we doing next, then, Tommy?” Darnold asks tentatively.

“I can’t say.” I reply. “If I do, G-Man will be able to hear.”

Darnold looks uneasy about that. “Does he hear everything we say?”

I nod. “Yeah, kinda, sometimes. And into our heads a little bit, too, depending on...things. If—umm, I kind of have to try really hard to stay out of my own head so he doesn’t, like, hear my plan. It’s hard.”

Darnold shudders a little. “That’s terrifying.”

“Yeah.”

Darnold looks like he’s about to say something, but suddenly, the timestop drops. Timestops aren’t really difficult for me to maintain, now that I know what I’m doing, so something else must have ended it. Right as it drops, a bunch of Civil Protection officers immediately surround us, ones I was sure weren’t there a second ago. Darnold yelps in surprise, scrambling to pull out his gun. I take a deep breath, forcing another timestop around us, trained on everything but me. I really don’t like having to fight more, but it’ll be good to get these soldiers out of the way. Technically, logically, there would be a finite amount of them in this world. So I shoot them all down and release Darnold from the timestop.

When Darnold processes what’s happened around him, he looks at me with wide eyes. “Whoa, holy shit. You’re, like... _really_ OP with that time power.”

“Mm-hmm.” 

There’s a pause as we keep heading through City 17. There’s a lot of CPs out, but not a lot of civilians.

“What’s even been going on, then?” Darnold asks as we’re getting close to Dr. Kleiner’s lab. “Why does G-Man want us all here so bad?”

“It’s something about, like—how umm, he thinks he needs to do this to stop the Combine.” I explain. “It doesn’t make sense, though. Like...the Combine wasn’t even—uhh, the Combine didn’t _exist_ in our universe. So there’s no point in bringing them here. The—umm—the events of Half Life 2 and everything, like, are gonna happen the same way—uhh, the same way they always do. Regardless of our actions here. So I don’t understand why he thinks he needs to do this.”

“...Half Life 2?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s what the game is called.”

“That...is...so infuriating, I don’t even feel like I can process that.”

“Yeah.” I say with a nod. I feel the same way.

We arrive at Dr. Kleiner’s lab after that. Bubby’s still awake, pacing around the lab, and Dr. Kleiner wakes up when we come in. Bubby runs up to us eagerly.

“Darnold! Tommy!” Bubby exclaims. “I called Harold. The teleporter at White Forest is almost done, he’s going to teleport as soon as he can.”

“Okay, that’s good.” I reply.

“So...where’s Benry or Joshua, then? Do you know?” Bubby asks.

I put my hands in my pockets, looking away. “Joshua is safe, I made sure of that. Benry...I don’t know. I couldn’t find him. I could—uhh, I could see all of _you_ guys, when I was in the void with G-Man. I saw everything that, uhh—everything you guys did. Mostly.”

“So you could see all of us, no trouble, but not Benry?” Bubby asks.

I nod. “Yeah. Umm—it’s...I think I know why. But I can’t tell you yet.”

I start to think a little about the plan—involving the Citadel—but I have to push the thought down so G-Man won’t see. I should probably switch to someone else so he can’t see my plan, I think instead, but it feels weird to be getting into someone else’s head when they’re standing right in front of me.

“So, you’re Tommy Coolatta?” Dr. Kleiner asks as he finally approaches and holds out his hand to shake. “I heard much about you and your friends from Bubby. They told me you made an immortal dog! I would love to meet her sometime.”

I don’t shake his hand, I really don’t like the feeling of people’s sweaty palms. “Oh, yeah, umm—she’s helping watch over Gordon’s son right now, but...maybe soon.”

That _does_ make me start wondering about something. What are we gonna do when we beat G-Man and return the world to normal? What’s gonna happen to all these Half Life 2 people?

“Umm...so...where’s Barney?” I ask, looking around the lab.

“Barney is out starting to prepare for a rebel attack, at the moment.” Dr. Kleiner replies, adjusting his glasses on his face. “My deepest condolences for your loss, by the way. It hasn’t quite been easy to accept that Alyx...”

Dr. Kleiner stops to take a deep breath and shakes his head, looking down at the floor.

I should probably comfort him, too, but I’m starting to get really exhausted, so I don’t say anything. I look around the lab. I sort of expected it to be busier, but it’s just us and Dr. Kleiner, right now.

“Where’s your vortigaunt friend, Bubby?” I ask.

“My what?”

“The alien.”

“Oh. How’d you—” Bubby pauses. “Oh, yeah, you said you were watching...well, their brothers or whatever took them somewhere else. They need some sort of special alien medicine or whatever to heal them, something like that.”

Darnold and Bubby start catching up, finally given the opportunity to talk in detail about what they’ve been doing. Darnold doesn’t seem too keen to talk about Nova Prospekt, though, so Bubby mostly fills the time talking about the science behind the teleporter. Soon, we hear Dr. Magnusson’s voice on Dr. Kleiner’s computer.

“Hello? Dr. Kleiner?” He calls.

Dr. Kleiner approaches the computer, where we can see Dr. Coomer stood behind Dr. Magnusson. “Oh, yes, hello, Dr. Magnusson. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve finally gotten that teleporter up and running, like you’ve been pestering me over.” Dr. Magnusson huffs, earning an annoyed look from Dr. Coomer. “We’re ready to send Dr. Coomer here over to you. Is your teleporter ready?”

“Ah, of course! I’ll go get it warmed up.” Dr. Kleiner replies. As he steps away from the screen, Bubby approaches, smiling at the sight of Dr. Coomer.

“Bubby!” Dr. Coomer says excitedly while Dr. Magnusson walks off to start their teleporter up. “I’ll be there in just a few minutes. My clones are coming, as well.”

“Oh, alright. Are you sure it’s safe for them to come?” Bubby asks. “They don’t have cybernetic enhancements, do they? They could get hurt.”

Dr. Coomer gets a conflicted look on his face. “Well, it’s...they all would very much like to see you, too. So they’ve decided they would like to come along.”

“...Well, it’s up to them.” Bubby says uncertainly.

“Dr. Coomer, I don’t have all day!” Dr. Magnusson calls from off-screen.

Dr. Coomer sighs. “I’ll see you in just a moment, Bubby.”

We all head over to stand by the teleporter. After a couple of minutes, it starts to come to life. The platform rises up and the metal around it begins to rotate, so fast it looks almost solid. Then, after a flash of light, Dr. Coomer appears. When the platform lowers and the gates open, he leaps off the platform and scoops Bubby up in his arms, spinning them around before finally setting them down.

“I’m so glad to see you’re safe!” Dr. Coomer says, holding them out at arm’s length and looking them over like he’s double checking.

“I’m _fine,_ quit worrying over me.” Bubby huffs, but he takes Dr. Coomer’s hands in his own, stopping and frowning as he looks at their hands. “Harold...there’s...something I need to tell you.”

“Oh. What is it?”

Bubby doesn’t get to say anything before the teleporter starts whirring again. Me and Darnold barely have time to greet him properly, getting a nearly bone-crushing hug from him before another clone appears, stepping off far more tentatively than the first. He looks at Bubby, fiddling with his fingers anxiously.

“Hi, Harold.” Bubby greets awkwardly.

“...Hello, Bubby.”

There’s definitely something left unspoken between them as another one starts to come through. All the remaining clones greet Bubby, and even me and Darnold, with varying levels of enthusiasm. The last one pauses before walking right past us all, staring down at the floor as we move on from the teleportater room.

“So...how come there’s all these clones?” Darnold finally asks, looking around at all of them. “I thought they were all, like, reconciled with you, Dr. Coomer.”

“Not entirely.” I reply. “These are the ones whose—umm—whose personalities didn’t, like...fully integrate with him after they all returned.”

Dr. Coomer nods slowly, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Umm—yes, so...what’s going to happen next, then? Why have we all come to City 17?”

I guess he doesn’t really want us talking too much about the clones, so I drop it. Actually...I kind of have to switch to someone else, if I’m gonna start talking about the plan, so G-Man can’t see what’s going on in my head while I figure out how to tell them what we’re going to do without giving it all away to him. So...umm, let’s see if I can even still do this from here.


	45. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: more discussion of partner/perceived major character death

Harold watches Tommy as he makes some strange motion with his hands, flapping them at the sides of his head almost like he’s trying to shake something out of his hair, but his hands aren’t close enough to actually touch his head. Finally, he lets out a deep breath and shakes his head vigorously, as though he’s shaking unwanted thoughts away.

“Okay. So...let’s—let’s see how to word this.” Tommy murmurs, beginning to fiddle with the zipper on his uniform. “I can’t actually tell you that much. But we have to go to the Citadel.”

“The Citadel? Are you out of your fucking mind? I _just_ broke out of there, I don’t wanna go back.” Bubby points out. “Dr. Breen said something about how he wanted to use me to lure Gordon in. It seems like we should be avoiding it at all costs.”

“I know, I know. But trust me, it’s—it’s really, really important.”

“And what about Benry?” Harold asks, looking around the room. “We haven’t found him, yet, have we?”

Tommy shakes his head. “...No. Not technically.”

Tommy looks like he’s about to start talking more about his plan, but the group stops and turns towards the door as they hear it squeaking open. Harold tilts his head as Barnaby steps through, looking just as exhausted as anyone else in this world tends to look as he closes the door behind him.

“Ah, Barney! You’re back.” Kleiner greets, approaching him.

Harold nudges Bubby gently with his elbow. “That’s not Barnaby?” He whispers.

Bubby shakes their head, adjusting their glasses on their face. “No, apparently not. Another one of those...weird dimensional things. Like, I think Kleiner is technically my...double?”

Harold doesn’t get a chance to reply before Barney raises his voice to address the group.

“Things are about to pop off pretty—wait.” He pauses, looking between all the clones with squinted eyes. “Am I seeing...sextuple?”

“No you are not, Barney. These are clones.” Kleiner replies, with fascination in his tone. “Dr. Harold Coomer has joined us here, as well as Tommy Coolatta.”

“Wow, almost the whole group. That leaves...uhh, two more, right?” Barney asks, setting down a strange looking gas mask on the table.

“Three, actually.” Harold corrects quickly. “We still need to meet up with Gordon.”

A brief silence falls over the room that Harold finds very uncomfortable. Bubby places a hand on Harold’s shoulder.

“Harold...we should talk outside.” Bubby says quietly.

“No, he’s right. Sort of.” Tommy interrupts, before Bubby can lead Harold outside. “I don’t know for sure, but I think he and Alyx are going to be okay. At least—umm—at least according to G-Man.”

“...How?” Bubby asks, brow furrowing.

Tommy shrugs slowly, fiddling with the zipper on his uniform some more. “He—he said, ummm, that the explosion was _supposed_ to happen. And if it was supposed to happen, then they have to be able to get out. So...it’s gonna be fine.”

Harold looks closely at Tommy. He bites his lip after he’s done talking, staring down hard at the floor.

“What explosion?” Harold asks tentatively.

“...Nova Prospekt.” Bubby replies, squeezing Harold’s hand in his own. “I’m sorry. I should have called you, I just—I...didn’t know how to process it at the time.”

“...They were set to teleport back to our lab, after a hiccup in the plan.” Kleiner fills in solemnly. “The teleporter must have detonated. And...we never received them here.”

“Is there any way they could have gotten out before the explosion? What if they’re trapped inside?” Harold asks worriedly.

Darnold shakes his head. “I...I don’t think so. The building was all collapsed in on itself...”

Darnold trails off, sighing deeply and squeezing Harold’s upper arm comfortingly.

“It’s gonna be _fine._ ” Tommy asserts, looking at them with a serious, frustrated expression. “You guys—you aren’t listening to me! I said it’s _okay._ It was a hard set event! It wouldn’t—it wouldn’t have killed them if it’s a hard set event! We just...we have to wait, is all. Gordon is gonna be okay.”

Harold frowns. He’s much more inclined to believe Tommy; he isn’t sure if, in a time like this, he could bear to fully process the loss of someone he loves so dearly. Still, Tommy seems in dire need of comfort himself. Harold breaks free from Bubby and Darnold, wrapping his arms around Tommy. Tommy lets out a frustrated breath, but hugs Harold back anyway, gripping the lab coat loaned to him tightly in his fists.

“It’s fine.” Tommy repeats. “Gordon’s fine. We just—we have to focus on ourselves right now. I can’t—...I can’t...”

Tommy shakes a little bit, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “I can’t let anything happen to anyone else. I sat—I just _sat_ up there with G-Man, telling myself I was watching over you, but...how could I have stopped—stopped an explosion? And even then, even if I _could_ have, I didn’t, because—I looked away at the wrong time, I—I thought I should check on everyone else...I...”

Tommy doubles over a little bit to bury his face in Harold’s shoulder, choking out a sob.

“He’s gonna be fine.” Tommy says again. “It’s gonna be okay.”

As Harold rubs Tommy’s back comfortingly, Darnold approaches as well, hugging them both close. Bubby joins as well tentatively, all remaining silent, other than Tommy’s sobs.

“And—and G-Man, he—...” Tommy stops to sob again. “He’s taken everything—everything away from us, just for some _pointless war,_ and—and I should—I should be able to stop him! It’s my responsibility, I have powers like—I have his same powers, he’s my _dad,_ I don’t like him, but I have a responsibility to stop it if my dad is hurting my friends!”

“Tommy, that’s not true.” Harold says, holding Tommy tighter. “We’re going to stop him together.”

“Yeah, that responsibility doesn’t fall on you just because he’s your dad.” Darnold adds. “You don’t deserve to have that weight on you, you never wanted _any_ of this. We all have just as much of a responsibility to set things right as you do.”

“But you could get hurt!” Tommy protests.

“We’re going in this together.” Darnold insists, pulling away a bit so he can look at the rest of the group. “I mean, what, are we just gonna sit down and let all this happen? It _sucks_ here.”

“Yeah, I wanna go home.” Bubby adds with a nod.

“But—but deaths are permanent in this world.” Tommy points out, wiping at his face.

“Yeah. That’s...worrying. But we’re all together, now.” Darnold says uncertainly. “You guys made it through all of Black Mesa together, and then beat Benry on top of that. If all of this is just a sequel to the game, then I’m sure we can beat it together.”

“If there’s a third game, I’m really going to lose my fucking mind.” Bubby grumbles.

Darnold pulls them all back into another hug the best he can. “We’re gonna make it. I’m...s-sure we can.”

Harold doesn’t feel any less terrified, but he takes a deep breath and uses his extendo-arms to wrap everyone up and lift them off the ground in a tight hug. “We’ll teach them not to fuck with the neo-neo Science Team!” He shouts triumphantly as Darnold lets out a surprised yelp.

“I really, _really_ hate to interrupt an important conversation, but listen, guys.” Barney says as Harold puts everyone back down. “Things are about to get wild out there in a bit. If you guys got things to do or you wanna help out, we’d better talk strategy.”

“We have to get to the Citadel.” Tommy says carefully. “I...can’t say more than that. As long as we get there, we should be able to get everything—ummm, start on what we need to do.”

“Y’know, believe it or not, I gotta get in there, too.” Barney replies, leaning back against one of Kleiner’s tables. “I heard from the vorts that Eli’s being held there, now. We _gotta_ get him out. Not just for the rebellion, but...for Alyx.”

Barney and Kleiner share a look, the room going silent for a long moment.

“So...I’ll be able to help you guys out, if that’s where you’re headed.” Barney finishes. “But it’s not gonna be easy getting there. You want _in,_ right? You’re after something inside the Citadel?”

Tommy pauses for a moment before nodding.

“We’ve got specialized attacks planned all around City 17. Gotta weaken their forces a bit before we can even think of getting inside.” Barney continues, heading over to pull something off of Kleiner’s table. He unrolls a paper map, placing nearby objects on the corners to weigh them down so he can start marking spots on it with a pen. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s gonna be brutal. The Combine really has us in a stranglehold here in City 17. But I think we’ve got a pretty good plan going—they’re already stretched a little thin after Gordon left the city, focusing a _lotta_ energy in trying to find him and take him down, and Gordon is—...was...sort of a one-man army on his own—took down so many soldiers, I thought I must not’ve been hearing right.”

“He’s always been very good at that.” Harold says.

“But we’re working on getting more people _into_ the city right now to help, and in a little while, we _might_ be able to overpower them.” Barney says, proceeding to go on a long lecture about their plans that Harold doesn’t fully process. Instead, he’s tuned into the almost overwhelming feelings coming in from the clones. Grief, rejection, terror, rage—none of them feel as emboldened as Harold himself, and he would only _generously_ describe himself that way.

Once Barney’s done, everyone’s given the space needed to get some rest before the rebellion begins its attack. Kleiner only really has enough bedding material for three people, if he sacrifices things from his own makeshift bed, but the Science Team is already familiar with sleeping on the floor in a time like this. Before Harold can get settled, Bubby places their hand on his shoulder, nodding to the metal door out of the lab.

“Could we talk?” They ask anxiously.

“Of course.” Harold replies with a nod.

Bubby leads him out of the room, closing the secret vending machine door behind them. They fiddle with the hem of their borrowed shirt for a moment before finally speaking.

“What’s...what do your clones think of me?” They ask.

“Oh, well, they all wanted to see you.” Harold replies, glancing back towards the door. “They _all_ care about you. It’s just...well, some of them don’t necessarily know how it’s appropriate to act around you, because they don’t know _your_ stance on them.”

“Well...they’re all you.” Bubby says, crossing their arms. “It’s...weird. But it was _always_ weird. It’s not weird in some new way I couldn’t possibly handle.”

“They’re, ummm...” Harold puts a hand to his chin, trying to consider how he wants to approach the subject. “They _are_ me. They’re all, um, facets of my identity, parts of me that...I pushed away. Parts that, like Tommy said, didn’t reconcile with me when all the clones returned to me. To be honest, I don’t believe anymore they ever _went away_ —maybe it should have been obvious to me in retrospect, but I had trouble recognizing it. They all have new experiences outside of Black Mesa, in our life outside of the game. They all care for you, in their own ways. But...due to their continued independence from my personality, they _are_ still different, in a sense. It’s...complicated.”

Bubby nods slowly. “Yeah. That makes sense. So...well, with _that_ in mind, how—...how is it appropriate to treat them? Should I treat them exactly the same way I would treat you, or do they need more space...?”

Harold glances back towards the lab. “Well...like I said, we all care for you. I think they aren’t actually quite sure, yet. They all have different...boundaries, I think, and different comfort levels with things...and I think that’s something that may have to be felt out along the way.”

Bubby nods. “...Okay. Yeah, we’ll just...see how it goes.”

Harold smiles at them, cupping their face in his hand. Bubby leans into the touch a little, pressing their hand to Harold’s.

“I think, if you’d be willing to discuss this further, one of my clones would be very eager to talk to you.” Harold suggests carefully. “He would like to talk about one of the prototypes with you.”

Bubby nods. “Okay. Yeah, umm—I’ve been wanting to try and talk to you more in detail about the prototypes. And, well, I don’t know if we’re going to have any time to do that in the near future...? Might as well now, right?”

Harold reopens the door, and already, the appropriate clone is standing up to take his place. Everyone else is mostly settled down, now, laying down as comfortably as they can manage on the floor. Harold curls up nearby his clones, making sure there will be enough space when Bubby returns for them to sleep beside him. He tunes in to the conversation Bubby and his clone are having.

“So—...you...” Bubby tries to start awkwardly, fiddling with their fingers anxiously. “You were in love with one of them?”

The clone nods slowly. “Yes, I-...well. It was one in administration. He was...I loved him very much. I hope that doesn’t come across as favoritism between either of you. It’s—I feel...very, very complicated about it all, after remembering what happened.”

Bubby nods as well, lifting a hand like they want to reach out to the clone, but they pull away, opting instead to drum their fingers on the floor. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The clone looks up at them. “...Thank you. I’m sorry, I’m sure this must be a strange subject for you.”

Bubby shakes their head. “It’s okay. I mean—well, you know, it was always complicated and weird for us. I’m not jealous or hurt that you ended up seeing a prototype. I’m actually...glad to hear that he had someone who cared for him.”

The clone smiles a little. “It’s good to hear you feel that way.”

“What was he like?”

“He was...quiet. But very caring and loving.” The clone begins, looking down into their lap. “When we started dating, we used to sneak him out of the Lambda lab to walk around the facility together late at night. We couldn’t sneak outside like you and me used to be able to—the security out of the facility was so much more strict for clones than just between departments. Just walking through new areas felt like enough for us, though.”

“It...it sounds like it was nice.” Bubby says, squeezing the clone’s hand a little. “As nice as it could be, at least. Considering.”

The clone nods. “It was. I wish he could have seen the surface, too.”

Bubby frowns. “...Me too.”

The clone sniffs, tears forming in his eyes. “I...I miss him. I couldn’t—I was so pushed down by Harold all this time, it couldn’t be truly recognized, but every day, on some subconscious level, I recall feeling like I was missing something.”

It’s cathartic to his clone, to finally discuss his loss with someone who he feels safe with and loved by. Bubby is sort of awkward about it, not necessarily knowing how to act in this situation, but the gesture of them offering comfort the best they can still comes across to his clone. Harold is fairly certain his other clones must be watching as well—not that he would ever be able to tell for certain, but he slowly begins to feel a weight shifting between them. Not disappearing; he isn’t sure the weight of his loss will ever go away, but it’s easier with the acknowledgment and support between the six of them.

Eventually, Bubby and the clone return. As Bubby begins to settle down, the clone pauses beside Harold. He kneels down, reaching out and wrapping him up tightly in his arms. Harold hugs him back. They don’t have to say anything—he knows the clone appreciates him reaching out and making a space for him to discuss his loss with Bubby. He moves and settles down away from Bubby, though; it’s something Harold isn’t sure how to handle at the moment—the acknowledgment that, even though Bubby is willing to put forth the effort to be supportive of all the clones, they can’t _all_ reasonably have the same amount of time with them without it becoming overwhelming for them. They only have two hands and so many hours in a day.

Bubby moves in closer to Harold, unknowing of this slow, unfortunate agreement happening in the Coomer clone hivemind so they can rest their head comfortably on his shoulder. Harold sighs, holding them close. Maybe after they get back home, they’ll have more time to discuss all this.

...

Harold imagines going back home—to the same neighborhood they’d been in, returning to Gordon’s house. Just without Gordon. Harold holds Bubby closer.

“Is...Gordon really gone?” Harold whispers to them. “I almost feel like...the possibility can’t even be _real._ ”

Bubby buries their face in Harold’s shirt. “...I really, _really_ hope he’s okay. I hope to fucking god Tommy is right.”


	46. Rebellion

I find it easiest to think when I’m trying to sleep. I’ve been trying to go over the plan in my head after Bubby and Dr. Coomer have settled down, and a few hours go by. It’s kind of hard to plan for when I’m so worried about Darnold, though.

Now that Gordon’s...temporarily out of the picture, Darnold’s the only one who doesn’t have something that makes him sturdier like all of us. I’m an alien, Bubby’s not human, Dr. Coomer has those cybernetic enhancements, and all the clones can’t actually fully _die._ If something happens to him...

He’s soft. I have to do what I can to protect him. If I try to leave him here, that means I won’t be able to keep an eye on him very easily, so I’ll have him stick by my side, make sure he stays safe.

He’s sleeping right next to me, back turned to me. He kind of snores a little bit. Not as much as Dr. Coomer, and there’s six of them in the room, so that’s...yeah...it’s hard to sleep, even if I intended to. But that’s okay. I just came out of the void, where I didn’t _need_ to sleep anyway, so I’m not as sleep deprived as everyone else. I look at Darnold carefully. It’s only been a couple of days, but it feels like it’s been an eternity since we last got to just...talk. I really want to take the chance to tell him how I feel, but we’re right on the brink of a civil war, he should get his rest. And also, if he doesn’t feel the same way, I don’t want that stress to be on his mind...

Darnold startles suddenly, sitting up and looking around wildly. Instinctively, I reach out and I take his hand. I hope it grounds him, and it seems to work. He looks down at me, breathing out a deep sigh of relief and laying down on his back. He squeezes my hand back.

“Sorry.” Darnold whispers. “Had a stress dream.”

I nod wordlessly.

We just lay there for a while, Darnold clearly giving up on getting back to sleep. We’re both just staring up at the ceiling, still holding each other’s hands. It’s nice, even if it’s not really a romantic gesture, and even if I don’t normally like holding people’s hands like this. It’s comforting to have him there. Also, the glove he’s wearing helps—no weird sweat feelings.

“Hey, Tommy?” Darnold asks quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Gordon said something before we went to Nova Prospekt that’s been kinda bothering me.” Darnold whispers thoughtfully. “He kinda seemed like he was in the middle of a breakdown, which like, understandable. But he said the player told him we have...people watching us?”

I nod again. “Yeah. Umm—to be honest, I don’t actually know much more about it than you do. If my ability to, like, take hold of what the player used to do—nudging things in reality around a little bit—was like one of Gordon’s Justin.TV streams, then what I can see is the game itself, but not the—uhh, not the chat, or anything else. Other than like...having a general, vague understanding of general Half Life 2 stuff. K-kind of like, game assets, and bits and pieces of plot? Like, that’s how I could—umm, get you the Combine uniform and gun and like, nudge you into getting the pheropod.”

Darnold’s eyes widen. “Oh! Wow, hey, that saved my life. Thanks.”

I smile and chuckle a little. “Of course. I’m glad I was—umm, that I was able to do that. You did really good out there on your own, otherwise.”

“Uuughh. I never wanna do good at something like that ever again.” Darnold groans a little bit before turning to me again. “So...you’re saying you can access, like, the program used to run our reality?”

I make a non-committal hand gesture. “To certain extents. Kinda like...I can see into the—like, into the source code, too? Maybe? I don’t really know how to explain it. You know—um, like, you know how towards the end of first Matrix movie, when Neo suddenly _got it_ and he was—there were those shots where everything around him just looked like code? It _feels_ like that.”

“...Huh.” Darnold mutters before smiling a little bit. “Hey, how have we gone this long without referencing the Matrix? I feel like that would’ve been one of the first things to reference when we learn that like, none of this is real.”

I can’t help but laugh a little bit and shrug.

Darnold’s expression turns serious again after a moment. “So...people can see us. To what degree? Like, can they see _everything?_ ”

“It’s like...ummm...like a TV show.” I say carefully. “They can’t see _everything._ It’s just things that would be...relevant, I guess.”

Darnold frowns as he stares up at the ceiling. “Weird. Super weird.”

“Can we turn it off?” One of the Coomer clones asks.

I glance over. I’m not sure how long he’s been awake, but he is now, rolling over to look at us.

I shrug. “I don’t know—umm, what’ll _happen_ if we turn it off. Or if it’s possible for us to, from where we’re at. I think the only person, umm—the only one who can is the player. And he’s dead, so...”

“ _Dead?_ ” Darnold questions. “Is _that_ what happened?”

“Oh, yeah. G-Man killed him.” I recall. “He appeared in the void right behind the player and—and um, he shot him.”

“Well—he can’t be _dead,_ dead. Right?”

I shrug again. “I don’t know. I just know, like, as far as—for all we know, he was shot, and now he’s not here.”

“...So, if the player is dead, and G-Man has taken control, that means any one of us could take control. Right?” The clone asks, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah. Not to the same degree, probably, but, uhh—G-Man was able to transfer us to a rebuilt version of the second game.” I say, looking at the ceiling again. “I don’t know that we could easily create, like, an entire world of our own. It’s easier to build off of—um—off something that already exists on the player’s computer.”

“Oh, yeah. He was saying Black Mesa was, like, the center of our reality.” Darnold recalls. “...Fucked up.”

I nod.

“What are we going to do when we defeat G-Man?” The clone wonders.

“Ummm...well...I wanna put things back to normal.” I say thoughtfully. “But maybe ‘normal’ isn’t even, umm—the best it could be. You know? We had...easy fixes for us. Enough money to own our own—umm, our own houses, and live comfortably without having to work. But what if—I mean, money doesn’t actually even _mean_ anything. We were just...sort of playing into a pretend system. If nothing’s real, why do we even bother with, like, the exchange of money for things? You know?”

“...Huh. That’s a really good point.” Darnold murmurs. “Like, it felt unethical for us to be attracting a mostly teenager customer base and then charging them for potions. Right? So we were giving out first potions free. What if they don’t even need to pay for any at all? Because if the resources needed to make the potions could _always_ technically be in supply without consequence or scarcity, that doesn’t mean money’s even a problem anymore, right? I make the potions for fun, anyway.”

“Yeah! Exactly.” I say enthusiastically. “We could _so easily_ build a world that—like—I don’t know, actually fits our needs, and reflects the sorts of, ummm...issues that would _actually_ come up for us.”

“Yeah. And maybe...” Darnold pauses. “I dunno. I guess I’m sorta hung up on the audience thing.”

“You don’t like it?”

“...I don’t know. I guess as a kneejerk reaction, no? But...well, what can you do, y’know?” Darnold shrugs it off suddenly, staring up at the ceiling carefully. “Technically, we had the player watching us all that time. Then _you_ were watching us, and G-Man’s watching us. Kinda seems unavoidable, in the reality we live in.”

“...Yeah. I don’t really know.”

“Perhaps, once we get the chance, we really ought to test the limits of what we can do, if the player is out of the equation entirely.” The clone suggests thoughtfully. “I know, for one, the original Harold doesn’t quite care that much about the laws of our world, so long as one exists for us to live in. But I personally don’t think we should take it at face value.”

I nod. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

It isn’t long after our conversation that Barney returns, announcing that it’s time to get going. The clone that was up with us—I’m pretty sure he’s the one who tried to kill Gordon, and the one who’s really mad at the original Dr. Coomer—says he wants to come with us, while the other clones all decide to stay behind with Dr. Kleiner. To be honest, I’m pretty worried, if he’s the one that really wants to maintain his own agency or something, because what if he dies? But I guess that’s a risk that he’s willing to take, so we give him a gun, while Dr. Coomer himself insists he can fight with his fists.

Barney unfolds that map again, holding it down on the table as everyone who’s coming looks at it carefully. “We’re gonna strike _here_ first.” He says, pointing to one of the places he’d circled earlier. “This is where they keep a lot of their excess weapons. If we can take control of that, we’d have a lot more to work with for the following week up ‘till we go to the Citadel.”

“Hey—wait,” I interrupt, “a _week?_ ”

Barney looks up at me in surprise. “Yeah. You didn’t think we were gonna hit all these places in a day, did you?”

I’m a little embarrassed by that, but mostly, I’m just frustrated. “If we wait that long, that—that leaves so much time where, uhh, where—where one of us could get hurt.”

“Well, yeah, but it’d probably be a lot more dangerous if we were rushing this.” Barney points out. “We need space between each attack to regroup. This isn’t gonna be a one-and-done thing, we have to be careful.”

“...Okay.” I say.

I probably should’ve just done this from the start, honestly, but I guess the time to rest didn’t really hurt. I close my eyes and start a timestop around us, everything frozen but me, Darnold, the Coomers, and Bubby. They all look around in surprise as I hold up my gun.

“Let’s just go.” I tell them.

I start walking towards the door, but suddenly, the timestop falls again, just like when me and Darnold were coming to Dr. Kleiner’s lab. Barney looks surprised at my sudden movement, but I ignore him, frowning and starting another timestop. It falls again almost immediately.

“Hey, how the hell are you doing that?” Barney asks in bewilderment.

I don’t reply to him. I just try it several more times, each time failing. I growl in frustration and open up a portal instead. I at least have the whole group, now, and it feels like we could stand a chance against him as long as we’re together and know he’s here this time. Plus, we _really_ need to get moving.

“Let’s try this.” I say to my friends. “C’mon.”

Everyone stares in surprise at the portal. Darnold and Bubby are the most confused by it, but the Coomers already know what this portal is from G-Man.

“My god!” Dr. Kleiner says in awe.

“You can use the doorways, too?” Dr. Coomer asks in amazement.

“Yeah—um—come on, I don’t know if I can hold this for long.” I reply.

I stand aside, and the original Dr. Coomer approaches first. He starts to step through it, only to collide with it, like those videos when someone expects a door to be automatic and they walk right into it. He stumbles back, trying again with just his hand. His palm presses against it like glass as I wave my arm in and out experimentally. I make an annoyed noise as the doorway disappears.

“...I guess we’ll _have_ to go on foot.” Darnold says.

I’m really, _really_ annoyed by this, but I guess there’s no other option. I let out a deep sigh. “Okay. Fine.”

“What was that...doorway you opened?” Dr. Kleiner asks in fascination.

“I’m an alien.” I reply, rubbing my face exhaustedly.

“An _alien,_ you say? Why, you look fully human.” Dr. Kleiner says, approaching to look me over.

“Alien or not, we really gotta get moving.” Barney says, rolling up the map. “I’ll see you when I see you, Dr. Kleiner.”

“Ah—yes, of course. Good luck out there, everyone.” Dr. Kleiner says with a nod.

“Hold on—Tommy, if you have the power to, uhhh...well, you know, program stuff.” Darnold starts, eyeing Dr. Kleiner and Barney anxiously—I guess we’ve sort of come to the silent agreement we don’t want to tell them about reality if we don’t have to, that’s a lot to take in. “Maybe you could use your power to get us some cool weapons?”

I hum thoughtfully, bouncing on my heels. “I mean—nothing more, like, exciting than what we already have.” I tell him. “I have limits. It has to be _reasonable._ Like, I can’t just get us a superpowered laser that kills—umm, kills people in one shot whenever we wanted, for example. Trust me, I umm—I tried. If I ever come up on an opportunity to do something like that, I will. Just trust me.”

Darnold smiles a little reassuringly. “Yeah. Of course I trust you.”

We all head out of the lab. The clone is walking closest to Barney, Dr. Coomer himself still keeping his distance from him at the back of the group with Bubby. We follow Barney out into the street, where we jog along between buildings to meet up with a larger group of resistance fighters. My heart’s racing as Barney gives everyone some directions, splitting everyone off into groups to head into the building at different angles. I didn’t really sign up to be fighting in a rebellion, but I guess we don’t really have another choice. Darnold reaches out to me, squeezing my free hand in his own. That helps a little bit with the anxiety for a second, but then, I just end up being worried about him.

We have to move fast after we’ve all gathered together, since there’s all those cameras, so before I know it, we’re all charging the building. Dr. Coomer leads our small group, taking on that same reckless enthusiasm he always gets. Barney’s plan works pretty well, actually. In the heat of the moment, it feels like all the loud gunfire and the fear of getting hit is never gonna end, but pretty soon, there’s no more CPs for the time being. We start collecting weapons like Barney says, preparing to take them back to wherever he’s decided is safest to hold them for the rebellion.

“It’s just like when we were robbing banks, isn’t it?” Dr. Coomer says, tossing a few guns into a duffel bag.

“Yeah, except we can actually fucking die this time, so let’s go.” Bubby replies as they scoop up one of the bags.

“How the hell did you guys do this before with the banks? I feel like I’m gonna die.” Darnold practically wheezes, hands shaking as he moves to collect things into a bag.

“It’s not like there was as much of a threat that time.” Bubby points out as we all start to head back outside.

We’re hearing some sort of siren off in the distance as we jog along behind some other resistance fighters. The air is sort of humid and warm, the smell of gunpowder and blood almost overwhelming. We empty the bags in some other building before turning around to head back and grab more. Some more CPs are heading in to try and stop us, immediately shot down by me or the clone before they can do any damage.

“Hey, it’s not _that_ bad like this.” Darnold says with a shaky smile as we’re running along the street. “As long as—”

I hear another gunshot before I see any CP around, and Darnold cries out, dropping to the ground.

“Darnold!” I shout, dropping my gun and kneeling by his side.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Bubby demands, looking around wildly.

The clone shoots at a window nearby, the whine of the radio that usually signifies they’re dead sounding almost immediately. I pick up Darnold in my arms. He’s been shot in the leg, it looks like, so thankfully, it’s probably not fatal. He groans as I sprint back to the rebels’ building, setting him carefully on the floor.

“Oh, fuck. Umm—oh, shit.” I mutter as I look around. “There—there has to be some sort of—umm, some kind of—h-healing thing, right? We’re—it’s a video game world, a m-medical...thing...”

I look around the room carefully, finding some storage of syringes with the red medical cross on them and a mysterious glowing green substance inside. I turn back to Darnold, holding it in my hand.

“I have no idea what this is.” I say to him. “But—but it has the cross, f-from a game design standpoint that has to be important—and I know shots, I do the T shots, so—...”

Darnold leans his head back, sucking in air through his teeth and closing his eyes tight. “Okay, just do it.”

I roll up his pants to check the wound before I inject whatever it is into him, hoping the whole quick healing concept used in video games translates over to how the world is now. And it actually does seem to. I can see the wound closing up as I inject the medicine or whatever it is. I have no idea if we should have taken the bullet out first, actually, but it’s kind of too late for that now. Darnold relaxes significantly, breathing out a deeply relieved sigh.

“Oh, thank fucking god, I thought I was about to pass out.” Darnold mutters.

“Does it hurt anymore?”

“A little, but not even close to how bad it was before.” Darnold replies. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“Darnold...” I say, looking away. “Maybe I should try and take you somewhere safer.”

“Hm? Like where?”

“I don’t know. Just—somewhere else, to wait it out until I get to the Citadel and eventually face G-Man again and everything.” I say, fiddling with my fingers. “I don’t want you to get hurt like this.”

“Tommy, I thought the whole point of this was because there’s nowhere safe for us to be.” Darnold says.

“Well—I don’t know! I just don’t want you to...” I stop, biting my lip and sitting down, curling my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

Darnold moves, careful with his leg, so he can sit properly next to me. He takes one of my hands. “I’m...to be honest, pretty fucking scared of all of this. But I don’t wanna leave your side. The last time I played it safe while my friend was going into danger...”

Darnold looks down, swallowing hard. “I can’t let that happen again. I’ll try not to get in the way again, I just...I wanna do my part in making sure nothing bad happens to anyone else.”

“You didn’t get in the way, you got—you got fucking shot.”

“Well, yeah, exactly, right?” Darnold asks as the Coomers and Bubby step in, dropping their bags off.

“Are you alright?” Dr. Coomer asks, kneeling down next to us.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I got some goo or something.” Darnold replies, holding up the used syringe. “I wonder what this stuff is made out of...”

“Oh, thank goodness for mysterious green goo.” Dr. Coomer says in relief. “Come along, I believe that warehouse is nearly emptied out by this point. We ought to get somewhere safer. Can you walk?”

“Yeah, probably.” Darnold replies, carefully standing. I let him lean on me for support, since his leg is still a little stiff, as we move on further away from the warehouse to where Barney told us to go.

Once we’re there and mostly sure we’re safe, I help Darnold sit down in a chair and pull up one next to him with a deep sigh. I’m definitely coming down from an adrenaline rush, now, almost every muscle in my body feels sore. Everyone else pouring in looks like they’re feeling the same, except Dr. Coomer, who seems like he’s doing that thing where he just completely ignores all signs of stress in his body. The clone is acknowledging it, at least, and lays down flat on his back on the floor, right beside where Bubby has chosen to sit.

“...I don’t think what happened with Gordon is your fault.” I tell Darnold.

Darnold bites his lip and looks away.

“Seriously—if it’s a scripted event, then like...it’s best you weren’t there.” I say carefully. “You don’t need to—like, being part of the Science Team in a world like this doesn’t mean you have to throw yourself into danger for us. You can stay behind.”

Darnold shakes his head. “No. I’m not staying behind this time. I’m—...you know something the player told me?”

“Hm?”

“He said he fucked up my whole backstory.” He continues, looking down at his hands. “I haven’t had much time to process that, but...a while ago, right before the road trip to California, I realized, like...I set myself on really specific paths my whole life. I never deviated from it, because that was what was safest. And when I let that happen again in the game, I _died._ The map reloaded, and I didn’t load with the new map—I was _gone._ I just...I can’t let myself fall into that again. Not when our lives are at stake. I’m going to stay with you guys.”

“I can’t—Darnold, this isn’t a game, this time.” I argue. “I can’t let you get hurt _._ You don’t have anything that protects you, you’re not an alien like me or anything like that. If you get hurt again, you could _die._ Forever.”

“You could, too.” Darnold protests. “I’m not gonna stay behind this time, Tommy.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” Darnold stops for a second, squeezing my hand and taking a deep breath. “Because...I know things have to end eventually. I don’t know if we’re going to reach the ends of our lives naturally, or if everything will just...disappear. And—if the end of everything happens _soon,_ I don’t want to be apart from you. Whatever happens, I wanna be sure I’m there by your side.”

I stare at him in surprise as he looks away for a moment, fidgeting in his seat before continuing.

“I was so afraid, when you disappeared after the wedding, that that was _it._ ” He goes on. “I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d missed out on every single opportunity I had to tell you this, and I was never gonna get the chance again. Well—now we’re together again, and I...I...”

Darnold freezes up, looking flustered as he stares at me. My heart is racing while I wait for him to finish speaking. I think I know what he’s going to say, and the suspense is driving me crazy, but I’m so nervous, I can’t speak anymore.

“Tommy.” Darnold finally says, clearing his throat. “I’m...in love with you.”

I pull my hands away from him, because I can’t help but start flapping, both out of happiness and worry simultaneously. I don’t know _what_ to feel. I feel excited that he likes me, I’m terrified that he’s right and everything will be fucked up forever or disappear entirely if we don’t win, I’m worried if I let him come with us he’ll die—I have to stand up, pacing and flapping my hands as I try to sort everything out. He stares at me as I get my thoughts together. I look back at him, finally, and it hits me again just how much I really, _really_ care about him. He’s so pretty, he’s so smart, so funny, and so creative and driven. I’m terrified something will happen to him, but...also...I don’t really wanna be apart from him, either. And he has the right to choose his battles, just like the rest of us. If it all ended and he had to disappear alone again, just like in the game...I can’t imagine anything worse.

I sit down again, and I pull him in for a tight hug. “I love you too, Darnold.” I finally tell him, burying my face in his shoulder. “ _Please_ be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if you died.”

Darnold hugs me back with a deep sigh. “Of course. You too, Tommy.”

I just enjoy this for a minute. He’s safe with me. And I feel safer with him, more grounded. It’s sort of easy to get caught up in _everything_ with the vague power I have now, but the feeling of his arms around me helps. It keeps me in my body, like he’s physically holding me here. It’s nice. I eventually pull away, though, and Darnold starts laughing quietly, hands lingering on my shoulders.

“What?” I ask him with a smile.

“I’m just—I’m really happy and really nervous at the same time, I can’t help it.” Darnold laughs, squeezing my shoulders.

I laugh, too, pressing my forehead against his. “We’re—I think we’re gonna be okay.” I tell him quietly.

“...Yeah. I believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it only took them like 180k words to say something!! damn


	47. The Gamma clone

They’ve been going almost non-stop for a few days, now. Bubby certainly experienced what they thought of as exhaustion in the game, but they’re hitting levels beyond that as they push forward relentlessly towards the Citadel. They have a few more scares—things only get more and more dangerous as the Combine starts pulling out all the stops, and that makes for more horrible ways to get hurt. Bubby is eternally grateful that they’re at least given the luxury of video game logic for healing; injuries are quickly dealt with, giving them the ability to keep moving forward.

It’s odd, not having Gordon around for this. They keep expecting to hear his voice; a Pavlovian response to life-threatening danger, just waiting to hear him shouting and running to their rescue. It makes them feel sick, trying to process their potential loss in the middle of a battlefield. There’s so much going on around them, they’re barely even given time to _breathe._ Bubby crouches down behind a chunk of drywall still standing after an attack, listening to the distinctive _stomps_ and staticy roars of something massive in the distance. Long, spindly legs, towering over the buildings around them, a gun attached under its belly that echoes across the streets as it fires at other rebel fighters—Bubby doesn’t have anything that could be effective against whatever the fuck _that_ thing is.

They’d gotten separated, once that massive thing started shooting at them. They scattered off in different directions like startled mice, ducking into whatever hiding spots they could possibly find. Last time Bubby had heard, _Tommy_ had the rocket launcher, and that’s probably going to be the most effective. Bubby has no choice but to wait it out.

At least they aren’t alone. Bubby has the clone with them.

“Are you alright?” Bubby asks the clone breathlessly.

He nods, looking Bubby over. “Are you?”

Bubby nods as well. “What about the others? Is Harold with Tommy and Darnold?”

“They’re all alright, for now.” He replies, standing to peer over what’s left of the drywall. “They’re trying to figure out what to do right now. We’ll just have to wait here.”

“...What about the other Harolds? And Kleiner?” Bubby asks tentatively as the clone eases back down to rest while they wait. “Are they all still okay?”

“They’re all fine. The Combine seems to be mostly following us, so things are pretty calm near the lab, comparatively.” The clone replies, brushing his fingers through his hair.

He looks exhausted. Harold has the benefit of cybernetic enhancements; this clone is just out here struggling against his failing joints to fucking survive. Bubby moves closer to him, a little uncertainly. They recognize the behavior of this clone fairly easily, from the Gamma labs back in Black Mesa, and during their year after the game. Bubby isn’t too sure how things worked with the clones, while they were all in the same body; but in retrospect, they can see the patterns. In particular, Harold would think too hard about the game, and this clone sat beside him would come out into consciousness in his place. He seemed so angry about the game, and about Black Mesa in ways Harold himself never displayed. The clone sits there, fiddling with his gun in his hands silently as Bubby tries to figure out what to say.

“Harold?” Bubby asks.

He looks up at them curiously.

“What are you...going to do, once we get back home?”

The clone seems a little confused for a moment before looking back down at his gun. “It depends. I don’t know if us clones are all going to go back to how we were, once we get home. I don’t even know if I’m going to _survive_ all of this. But if I do retain my independence from Harold once we go back, I would be interested to see the limits of our reality. Perhaps there’s a way out, if we figure out how to push it.”

Bubby eases back against the chunk of wall beside the clone, taking the rare opportunity to reload their gun. “...I can understand that.” Bubby murmurs. “Aren’t you scared of what could happen, though?”

He sighs, leaning back against the wall as well and looking up at the darkening evening sky. “...Nothing feels worse to me than the idea of remaining trapped.”

“... _Are_ we trapped, though? Any more than those in the world outside of ours are trapped in their own?”

The clone curls his fingers into a fist, then out, repeating the motion as he thinks about it. “Perhaps you’re right about that. It’s about how malleable this world is, though. Doesn’t it terrify you? The way anything could happen, provided someone with the wrong intentions figures out how to take control?”

Bubby nods. “Well, _obviously._ Look where we are now.” They scoff, nodding to the war zone in front of them.

“If we make it out to the real world, we wouldn’t have to worry about this.” The clone says, indicating towards the looming silhouette of that monster around the other side of a building. They watch for a moment as some projectile hits it, and it reels back in pain. “Not to mention, even if things go back to relative normalcy...is any one of us truly prepared to take on the responsibility of managing our reality, without the player? And even if the player truly was alive and well, would we even want him to take control back, anyway?”

These are questions Bubby isn’t even nearly prepared to answer, so they stay silent.

“I may have been...misguided, in attacking Gordon during the game.” The clone admits. “But my philosophy remains the same. I can’t stand to stay in a world like this, anymore. I need to get out. I need freedom, in a world that doesn’t center around what I can do for someone else.”

“...I’m not sure it really centered around our impact on Gordon specifically, anymore, after the game.” Bubby points out. “I think things were about as normal as they could possibly get for us. We had our own vacations away from him just fine, our own experiences while he was doing anything else.”

The clone looks down into his lap, a stubborn expression on his face.

“So, if that’s the case...would you still want to leave?” Bubby asks.

He curls up a little, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees. “...I never asked to be here.”

Bubby nods slowly, brow furrowing. “It... _is_ weird to think about. Knowing the way we came to be, what our purpose was...”

He shakes his head, curling up tighter.

“...Is that not what you meant?” Bubby questions.

He pauses, biting his lip and looking away for a long few seconds. “I—no? Maybe? I don’t know. It’s—it’s hard to sort out what I actually feel, between the laws of the game and the backstory.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a clone who achieved self awareness.” The clone says, indicating to himself. “Before all of this, Gordon told us the player said the game happened first. So, technically, our existence started within the game. The clones, _my_ existence, were an off-handed explanation to why NPCs look the same.”

“Uhh—y-...yeah.”

“So who should I direct my anger towards for what I’ve been through?” He demands suddenly. “The player? The game? Black Mesa? _Harold?_ ”

Bubby reaches out instinctively to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He jolts at the touch, muscles tensing underneath their hand as he looks at them in surprise. Bubby pulls away.

“Oh—sorry.” Bubby says.

Looking at him, Bubby can’t help but feel their stomach twisting a bit. The touch aversion, the anger at existing against his own will, feeling trapped, searching for an escape—all of it is something Bubby knows much too well. This clone is an almost perfect mirror of Bubby when they were younger, less terrified of the outside world and more furious at Black Mesa. By the time Bubby had met Harold, they were already sort of resigned to being stuck. In their 20’s, though, they were a lot fierier, more intent to escape.

They _had_ even escaped, once. They’d pulled out all the stops. Using their full power, they’d torn through Black Mesa late one holiday night, when security was scarcer. And they’d gotten outside, standing right beyond the doors and looking out at the desert ahead of them.

That was when they’d realized they were agoraphobic. They’d never even been outside before at that point. It had been freezing, so massive, so dark, so unknown. They tried to push forward, make it as far away from Black Mesa as they could, but the guards had taken advantage of their panic attack to tackle them down and take them back in.

They’d been so furious; not at Black Mesa or the guards, but at themself, for cowering at what they’d deeply longed for for so long. And that was when they’d given up on escaping. More fears piled on over the years, more concerns about potential freedom, until they were completely resigned to their fate.

The clone grits his teeth as he curls his fingers into fists again. “I just—I can’t keep going like this.” He says. “I can’t keep living here, knowing that there’s something more out there. Isn’t it _suffocating_ to you? Don’t you feel _trapped?_ ”

Bubby nods, frowning deeply at him. “...Harold...I understand how you’re feeling.”

“So you want to leave with me?” He asks, looking at Bubby hopefully.

Bubby averts their eyes. Theoretically, escaping into a world larger than them, something genuinely _real_ sounds fantastic—they sympathize with the clone, but how would escape be possible? They wonder. They’re just code in a computer. Even if they have self-awareness, they don’t have bodies ready for them in the real world. If they do something with the computer and it shuts down the program they’re running on, or worse, corrupts the file or breaks the computer, and the player isn’t there to fix it...

“Well—can I ask you something, actually?” Bubby asks.

He stops, his hopeful expression deflating a little bit before nodding.

“What would you do, out in the real world?”

He stares at Bubby for a long moment, brow furrowing in confusion. “I would...just...live, I suppose. Find somewhere to stay, probably find a job...do whatever I have to do. Just _exist._ ”

“Can you not do that when we get back home?”

He gives Bubby a frustrated look, turning away. “You don’t understand, do you?”

“I’m _trying_ to.” Bubby tells him. “Harold, listen. I understand why you’re angry. Everything about the game and Black Mesa was unfair. But...things are better now, aren’t they?”

He indicates to the world around them again. “ _Are_ they?” He questions.

“Well—not right _now,_ but we’re going to stop G-Man, and we can put things back to how they were.” Bubby insists. “I...don’t know, personally, that I would be very eager to test the boundaries of our reality. It feels like we’d just be asking for something to blow up in our faces.”

“But at least we’d _know!_ ” He argues. “I want to see the world, Bubby! I want to live somewhere where my existence isn’t...it’s not...”

He seems to lose his grip on his argument a little, huffing in frustration and closing his eyes as he leans his head back against the wall.

“You don’t want to feel so...” Bubby pauses to find the right word. “Important?”

Harold seems confused by that, turning to look at Bubby quizzically.

“I’ll admit, I kind of clung to a superiority complex to feel better about everything involving Black Mesa.” Bubby says carefully.

Harold snorts a little. It’s the tiniest hint of a less furious side of this clone, a little closer to the man Bubby feels like they know best. “I recall.”

Bubby nudges Harold playfully with their elbow. “Shut up. But, well...a lot of good—I mean, _relatively,_ compared to the prototypes—came from being the final product of the biological research team’s efforts, and a lot of bad. I was so vital to their research, so important. Too important to be let out into the world. Too important as a scientific marvel to be treated as...a person. Maybe ‘important’ isn’t the right word, I don’t know—but anyone else could just blend into a crowd. They were just people, who truly didn’t matter to Black Mesa at all as their own individuals. I liked feeling important in a lot of regards, but...I did also think, wouldn’t it be nice, to not be some sort of scientific breakthrough? What if I was just a regular person, who Black Mesa didn’t give two shits about, beyond the results I provided for them? I guess I mean this very specifically in a dehumanizing way, because I still wanted to matter to someone. I mattered to you. But...well, we’re in a reality where we’re sort of leveraged as the most important people in the world, because _we’re_ what the player was focusing on. Does...that distinction make sense?”

Harold nods. “...Yeah. I think so.”

He stares back out at the buildings ahead of them, silent for a long time before speaking again. “I...wanted to be able to exist on my own.” He says quietly. “I wanted to be my own person. Someone who could leave Black Mesa, or the game, and be just as distinct as anyone else. I was always a _Coomer clone,_ though. I couldn’t be anyone else, and I had no freedom to set myself apart. I was just...another Dr. Coomer, in a sea of Dr. Coomers. My existence centered around what services I could provide to other people, even before the game, because Harold decided to bring us all into the world to ease his own complex about not being useful enough to others. I never asked to be a part of that, and we all as clones faced the consequences of it while he turned a blind eye, because it wasn’t convenient for him to consider how it hurt us.”

Bubby doesn’t know what to say to that. Certainly, they’d hit the right spot, and now all the things he needed to get off his chest are flooding out; but this is a little beyond their own personal experience with Black Mesa.

“And I couldn’t have a relationship with the people I cared for, anymore, because it was too ‘awkward’ for them.” He continues, balling his hands up into fists again. “I was pushed aside, because I was _inconvenient._ I had to put my all into my work for others, and I was still swept aside as _inconvenient,_ because by default, nothing I ever did was enough or considered my own accomplishment. I just—...I was never going to be _enough_ on my own.”

Harold pushes himself up to his feet, looking out at the city ahead. “I wanted to escape so badly. I wanted to blend in again, on my own, and be someone who didn’t owe anyone anything just by virtue of existing the way I did. But my options were to either keep existing that way or give myself back up to Harold—to effectively _die._ I lost either way.”

“...I’m sorry, Harold.” Bubby finally says. “That sounds horrible.”

He turns around to face Bubby, shoulders relaxing a little. “Bubby...what do you see me as?”

Bubby pauses. “Umm...what do you mean?”

“Do you see me as an extension of Harold? Or someone else entirely?”

Bubby frowns uncomfortably. “I...don’t know how to answer that.”

Harold sighs, then grunts as he eases himself back down on the ground to sit across from Bubby. “That’s okay. I...know that I’m still Harold. I don’t want to renounce that—his experiences are still my own, prior to the cloning project. I’m just...a Harold that became trapped in Black Mesa. That changed me significantly, but at my core, I’m still Harold.”

Bubby nods. “...Yeah. And, well, I still care about you, either way.”

Harold looks up at Bubby, his characteristically bitter expression breaking a little bit. “...Oh.”

“What, did you not expect that?”

Harold shakes his head a little bit. “I suppose not.”

“We talked outside of Black Mesa, still.” Bubby points out, relaxing a little bit. “I remember the patterns, when you’d take over. That never changed how I thought of you. You’re still my husband. If—...if that’s what you want.”

Harold looks down at his hand, where his wedding ring _would_ be. It seems only the original Harold has one; the rest were fully put in civilian uniforms, no remnants of the wedding outfit.

“I...” Harold bites his lip, then scoots a little closer to Bubby, reaching out tentatively for their hand. Bubby takes his hand gently. Harold stares down at the way their fingers lace together comfortably, muscle memory at this point after their time spent outside of the game. “You don’t _have_ to. I’m—...I know I’m not like the Harold you signed up to marry. I’d understand, if you don’t feel the same way about me.”

“You’re still _Harold._ ” Bubby points out. “I don’t care if you’re different. We both understand each other in a way nobody else is really going to get—we both were trapped in Black Mesa. To be honest, it’s...almost a relief, to see you actually acknowledging how awful that was.”

“Oh. Really?”

“...Honestly, it felt sort of weird to me that you refused to acknowledge how horrible it was living like that.” Bubby finally says. “Our situations may not have been the same, and I really, really wish you didn’t have to suffer the way I did. I didn’t know how to articulate it at the time, but it felt awful, seeing the way you treated it as trivial when it was something that hurt me so much.”

Harold squeezes Bubby’s hand in his own. “...Oh. I’m...I’m very, very sorry, Bubby.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bubby replies. “Whenever we talked about it, you—or, I guess, the original Harold—always took _my_ pain seriously, so I knew he probably just needed to process it on his own time. It’s just...nice, to finally feel like you understand.”

Harold nods, moving in a little closer to Bubby. “...It’s nice to finally talk about it.”

After a pause, Harold tenses a little more as he looks down into his lap. He closes his eyes, shoulders shaking a little. Bubby squeezes his hand.

“Are you alright?” They ask gently.

“Th-...” Harold starts, then stops for a moment, taking in a shaky breath. “I-...I’m sorry. I feel like I’m...not...enough for you. You’re so sweet to say everything about how I’m still Harold, but—...you...deserve to be with _him._ You shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

“Hey, cut that out, Harold.” Bubby says sternly, tilting their head a little to meet his eye easier. “Our lives in Black Mesa were weird and fucked up in _so_ many ways, and...I’m sorry you were hurt, too. But that doesn’t mean you’re some offshoot who doesn’t deserve...well...to be cared for. And I care about you. None of this changes that.”

Harold looks back up at Bubby, tears clearly forming in his eyes.

“But—...I-I’m not as _nice_ as him.” He protests, voice breaking as he speaks. “You don’t need someone with the kind of...negativity and anger I carry _all the time._ I can’t shake it, it’s—it’s just...it feels like it’s burned into me forever. I can’t be the person you need me to be.”

“I don’t _need_ you to be anybody.” Bubby points out, reaching with their free hand to cup it over Harold’s face. “I just...need you to be you. Whatever that looks like, that’s fine. You’re allowed to be _mad,_ I mean, look at me. I’d be hypocritical to turn you away just because you get pissed about shit you’re rightful to be angry about. And...we share that anger, Harold, I’m _furious_ about Black Mesa. We can manage that together.”

Harold lunges forward, wrapping Bubby up tightly in his arms and burying his face in their chest as he lets out a loud sob. “I—...I missed you so much. All those years—and I only ever _really_ got to see you through the eyes of someone who ignored me, someone I was becoming less and less like every day, I thought—I thought I’d never be enough, anymore, I was too hurt and too angry, and...thank you. Thank you for not turning me away.”

“Of course, Harold.” Bubby replies, holding him close. “Whatever happens after all this, we’ll...we’ll make it work.”

They sit there like that for a long time, Bubby quietly comforting their husband before they hear a loud crash. They both watch as dust explodes from a building the massive monster crashed into, crumbling underneath its weight as it goes down. Once the dust settles, they see no movement. Suddenly, there’s cheering down below.

“Oh! They defeated the strider.” Harold says, wiping at his eyes hastily as he starts to try and push himself back up to his feet and grunting with the effort. He takes in a sharp breath suddenly, putting a hand to his hip.

Bubby quickly stands, holding their hand out to Harold to help him. He leans over on his side a little first, shifting his leg until he seems satisfied, before accepting Bubby’s help.

“I forgot how painful my EDS could be, sometimes, without all those cybernetic enhancements.” Harold mutters as Bubby pulls him to his feet.

Bubby nods sympathetically. “Not to mention how old we’re getting.”

Harold gives him a slightly amused, exhausted smile. “Oh, don’t remind me.”

“Is everyone okay?” Bubby asks worriedly.

Harold nods. “They’re all fine. It was just a nightmare, trying to find good vantage points and ammunition. Darnold and Harold kept missing until Tommy took the rocket launcher back.”

Bubby breathes out a small sigh of relief, still holding Harold’s hand. “Well, let’s get down there.”

They hurry along the mostly empty streets to rejoin everyone else. Bubby feels a jolt of concern when they see Darnold flat on his back on the pavement, but he just seems to be recovering mentally from the attack as Tommy kneels beside him. The original Harold locks eyes with Bubby and immediately rushes forward. Bubby’s uncertain what to do, holding the other Harold’s hand, but wanting to hug the original—before they can decide, Harold’s already there, wrapping them up tightly. Bubby hugs him back one-handed.

“Well, we know what to do with those creatures _now._ ” The original Harold says with a deep sigh. “I’m glad to see you’re okay! Both of you.”

“You, too.” Bubby replies as Harold pulls away much faster than they’d expected.

Harold holds Bubby by their shoulders tightly, glancing at clone Harold awkwardly. Clone Harold immediately pulls his hand away from Bubby, and the two stare at each other silently in some internal back-and-forth that Bubby can’t hear. Bubby feels awkward and left out as they both begin looking anywhere but each other, the clone shoving his hands in his pockets and the original twirling his hair around his finger.

“Hold on.” Bubby blurts out, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “I feel like this is about to go very, very poorly if we don’t _all_ talk. Together.”

“Umm—you guys, yeah, I don’t...” Tommy interrupts, approaching suddenly. “It seems very important you talk, yeah, but—umm, we kind of have to get out of the open. Let’s go find Barney first.”

“Oh, right.” Bubby mutters, watching Tommy head back to Darnold and help him to his feet. Darnold lets out a deep, exhausted sigh, and Tommy cups his face in his hand comfortingly. They don’t say anything, just taking a moment to silently comfort each other before they lace their fingers together and start walking.

Bubby looks towards the two Harolds. They both pause for a long moment before original Harold makes a conflicted, hurt expression and hurries to catch up with Tommy and Darnold before shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks. Clone Harold starts walking, too, eyes trained on the ground and lagging behind the group. Bubby, unsure what to do, reaches for clone Harold’s hand. Bubby catches original Harold glancing back at them, biting his lip before looking back ahead of him.

****

They’re not going to get the chance to talk until after all of this is over. Harold has to come to terms with that. Whenever they actually have the time to sit down and rest during the following days, that’s all they want to do—a discussion about the intricacies of a relationship between more than one of the same person, who are constantly engaged in a telepathic fight over their differences, is going to be more exhausting than they have the capacity to handle at the moment.

So Harold withdraws. It’s easier that way, to allow the clone and Bubby to have their time together in the middle of their fight towards the Citadel. He at least concedes that he wants the clones to be able to freely interact with Bubby however they choose—in a _general_ sense. _That_ particular clone, though...

That clone is clearly carrying a lot of emotional baggage Harold didn’t even realize he had for the past year. He lashes out over it, acts entitled, refuses to let Harold get a word in edgewise; he embodies so much of what Harold fights very hard _not_ to be. Even in the hardest times of his life, even in an unhealthy relationship with his ex wife, Harold did his best to be level and understanding, even if that was to a fault at points. If the clone has that capacity to be so cruel as to attack Gordon and act the way he does, does that speak to who Harold truly must be, deep down?

 _No, it doesn’t._ The clone immediately argues.

Harold curls in on himself a little, resenting the way the clone can hear his thoughts. He glances over his shoulder to the other end of the room, where Bubby is sleeping in the clone’s arms. He turns back away—not out of jealousy, but self-consciously.

 _I am who I am now because of your actions. Being trapped in Black Mesa as a clone, I was forced to become this way in order to survive. It’s not an inherent facet of who_ you _are, it’s what you made_ me _become._ The clone goes on spitefully.

 _I think you’re being too hard on him._ Another clone, still with Dr. Kleiner, chimes in. _Remember what Uriah said? We’re supposed to share our experiences and pain so we can get along and work well together. You two in particular need to work together now more than ever._

 _That acceptance is up to him._ The angry clone immediately retorts, directing a great deal of bitterness towards Harold. _He’s the one pushing me away and ignoring me._

 _I’m not trying to._ Harold protests, clutching his sleeves tightly in his fists.

 _Then why won’t you listen to me?_ The clone demands.

 _Because you’re being so cruel to me!_ Harold replies, turning around to look at him again. Bubby is stirring in the clone’s arms, clearly woken by him tensing. They look blearily between the clone and Harold. _You’re always insulting me and acting superior to me rather than truly letting me understand. Why do you have to be this way?_

 _You want me to be like the other one? Pathetic and needing you to rescue him from his own feelings?_ The clone questions, earning hurt feelings from the clone in question. _I don’t need you. I had to become self-reliant. I had no true friends, other than Darnold, who was the only one who treated me like a regular person—and even then, we barely talked. I didn’t have anyone to lean on. I couldn’t ever expect you to understand that._

“Harold?” Bubby asks quietly, looking between the two of them.

“It’s fine, Bubby.” The clone immediately whispers back, his disposition changing so quickly, Harold almost can’t believe what he’s seeing. His expression softens as he looks back at Bubby, holding them close. “You should get some rest.”

“Is this going to keep happening?” Bubby questions. “You two are going to keep fighting, and I’m going to be left in the dark?”

“...I wouldn’t want you to lose any sleep over this.” Harold agrees. “You should go back to sleep.”

“It’s fucking impossible to sleep when you two are like this.” Bubby grumbles. “If we have time now, we should all talk.”

Harold hears Tommy sighing and rolling over. He props himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

“Is everything okay?” Tommy asks sleepily.

“I-it’s fine.” Harold insists self-consciously. “Go back to sleep. You’re going to need your rest.”

Bubby sits up, taking their glasses and putting them on. “I’m losing more sleep with you two being like this than I’d lose if we just fucking _talked_ for once. Let’s go outside. Both of you.”

Harold stands up sheepishly, following Bubby and his clone outside the room they’ve been camping out in. They step out into a narrow alleyway, where the clone leans against the wall, crossing his arms and staring down at the ground. Harold fiddles with his fingers anxiously, Bubby standing between them with their hands shoved in their pockets.

“Okay.” Bubby sighs. “What’s going on between you two? Why are you acting like this?”

Harold bites his lip, glancing up at the other clone, who stares back at him carefully.

“I just want him to understand the pain he put me through.” The clone finally says after a long pause.

“I’m _trying_ to.” Harold replies defensively. “You’re not letting me in, though! You’re just being needlessly mean to me!”

“Do I not have a right to be angry?” The clone demands.

“I-I never said you didn’t have a right to your feelings.” Harold says sheepishly, looking down at the ground.

“You _act_ that way, though.”

“Holy shit, you two, hold on.” Bubby interrupts, stepping closer between them. They look to the clone sympathetically, sending a churning feeling through Harold’s stomach. That immediately earns an annoyed look from the clone. “I understand you’re upset, Harold. I mean...as long as I’ve known you—as, like, one single person or otherwise—you _do_ have a tendency to shut out emotions you don’t want to listen to. But I’m sure there’s a way you two can listen to each other without it becoming like _this._ ”

“That’s not up to _me._ ” The clone says, turning away.

“But—any time I try to reach out to you, you just take the opportunity to point out _everything_ I’m insecure about.” Harold argues, crossing his arms and gripping his sleeves tightly in his fists. “You’re using everything you know that hurts against me. It feels like you don’t even _want_ me to reconcile. All you do is lash out at me.”

“Because I don’t want your _sympathy._ That’s all you’re offering me. Sympathy for something you put me through.” The clone accuses.

“But it wasn’t just _my_ decision!” Harold blurts out defensively. “You were me, too, once! You were there for the decision I made! No, _we_ made! And you could have chosen to return to me at any time!”

The clone opens his mouth, then closes it, turning away for a long moment before finally speaking again. “I couldn’t expect you to understand that decision to return to you.”

“I...guess I don’t understand.” Harold admits quietly. “I-I’m sorry. I really, truly am.”

The clone doesn’t seem comforted by that. He tenses a little more, glancing at Harold before continuing to stare at a pipe to his side. “That’s not enough.” He says through gritted teeth. “There’s nothing you’re going to be able to say that makes my pain go away. I’m going to be suffering like this forever because of your actions.”

“Well—hold on.” Bubby interrupts, putting a hand on his shoulder. “No you’re not, Harold. You’re clearly being stubborn, here. Harold seems to be genuinely trying for you.”

Harold watches the clone hopefully as he turns to look at Bubby. He relaxes a little bit looking at them, putting his hand over theirs before looking back at Harold.

“I-...I can’t just... _let it go._ ” He says somewhat defensively. “I can’t let go of my anger or the type of person I ended up being. I can’t let myself become _soft_ again like you.”

“Why not?” Harold asks.

“I can’t let myself get used again!” The clone replies, looking down. “I—I have to be allowed to be here, and I have to hold onto it, so it _never_ happens again. I have to take on the responsibility of someone who will do anything to protect us—or...I mean...”

He looks away, biting his lip.

“Protect _us?_ ” Harold echoes. He wants to ask him to clarify who he meant, but he can see who he meant by reaching towards him internally. The clone had directed so much anger towards him, but in this moment, when he breaks a little, Harold can read his intentions to protect _him_ and all the clones loud and clear.

“I-...you’re too soft.” The clone says through gritted teeth. “If I start to let go, I don’t...want to be caught unprepared to do what has to be done.”

“Harold, that’s not healthy.” Bubby points out. “I understand feeling like you have to keep your guard up. Trust me, I _really_ get that. But it’s going to be okay if you allow yourself to let go.”

“He’s—...not prepared to handle the kind of pain I went through.” The clone scoffs, staring down at the ground.

Harold frowns, tentatively stepping forward. The clone tenses as Harold tries to hug him, pushing him away and stepping to the side.

“ _No!_ ” The clone blurts out. “This doesn’t change anything, I’m still angry at you! It’s your fault I have to take on this responsibility!”

“You don’t _have_ to.” Harold points out.

The clone turns away again, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Harold is about to say something to him, but he feels an alien rush of panic. The clone seems to feel it, too, suddenly turning towards Harold with a confused look. Harold looks to his other clones, watching as two approach the door to the teleportation room in Dr. Kleiner’s lab with Kleiner, guns drawn.

“What?” Harold breathes.

“What is it?” Bubby asks, putting a hand on his upper arm.

Harold watches through his clone’s eyes as Dr. Kleiner nudges the door open a little. Dr. Kleiner peers inside, suddenly relaxing a little as he stares at what’s inside.

“Alyx?” Dr. Kleiner asks in quiet disbelief.

“Oh my god, please let me outta here, I think I’m gonna throw up.” Gordon’s voice says. Dr. Kleiner pushes the door open a little more, allowing Alyx and Gordon out of the teleportation room. Gordon rushes further into the lab as Harold reaches for Bubby, grasping their hands tightly.

“Holy shit!” The clone stood in front of Harold gasps.

“What?” Bubby asks again irritably.

Harold wraps Bubby up tightly in a hug, relief washing over him. “Gordon’s _alive!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol if u can't tell the way i write dr. coomer is VERY personal


	48. REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman and A.Vance's return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: emetophobia

LOADING...

  
  


Gordon felt sick beyond belief. Whether it was from the teleport or the previous rush of the fight he just faced right before teleporting, he couldn’t tell—but he was currently ralphing up all the soda he’d managed to get his hands on previous to Nova Prospekt.

Okay, the soda probably didn’t help, either.

Dr. Coomer gently patted Gordon’s back like he was burping a baby, while Dr. Coomer knelt down beside him. Gordon’s head only began to rush with confusion once he was done being preoccupied with Dr. Kleiner’s now ruined trash can. Confusion and dizziness, actually. Gordon flopped onto his backside, putting a hand to his head as he glanced between the two—no, three—no, _four_ Dr. Coomers.

“Huh?” Was all Gordon managed to say.

“Gordon, oh my goodness, I can’t believe it!” One of them exclaimed, wrapping Gordon up in his arms. “We thought you were gone!”

Another one hugged Gordon awkwardly around the other Coomer, sniffling as he was engulfed by the remaining two Coomers as well. “I’m _so_ glad you’re okay, we thought we were going to have to go home without you, and—oh, god, _Joshua..._ ”

“Joshua?” Gordon echoed, looking around. “Is he here? Did you find him?”

“Tommy took Joshua and Sunkist to Barnaby. He’ll be safer there, while they all go to the Citadel.” Another Dr. Coomer told him, pulling away to look him over. “Are you hurt, Gordon? Do you need any healing grub goo?”

“Wh—...” Gordon stopped, closing his eyes as his head began pounding. “Oh my god. You just said so many words at me. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Gordon heard a familiar noise. Little chirping and the skittering of claws across a hard floor. Gordon whirled around, screaming in surprise as he was faced with a headcrab.

“No need to worry, Gordon, it’s only Lamarr!” Kleiner comforted, bending down stiffly to scoop up Lamarr in his arms. “Thanks to the help of the Dr. Coomers, I was able to locate her, thank goodness.”

“Umm—Dr. Kleiner, that’s fantastic, but what do you mean, it’s been over a _week?_ ” Alyx interrupted.

“Huh? A _week?_ ” Gordon questioned. “But—we just went through the teleporter a second ago!”

“ _Fascinating._ We seem to have developed a very slow teleport!” Kleiner muttered thoughtfully, walking to his computer. “This suggests an entirely new line of investigation.”

“What the hell happened, then? Why’s there so many Dr. Coomers? And where’s everyone else?” Gordon asked, looking around the lab blearily.

“Yeah—what about my father?” Alyx added worriedly.

“Well, everyone is nearly at the Citadel by now.” One Dr. Coomer replied, holding out an arm to support Gordon. “Tommy thinks the solution to our problems is inside the Citadel. I believe they are currently waiting for Barney’s signal.”

“And...as for Eli...” Kleiner adjusted his glasses on his face before putting his hands on Alyx’s shoulders. “The vortigaunts tell us he’s being held prisoner there.”

“What?!” Alyx gasped. “We _have_ to get him out!”

“Yes, after the explosion at Nova Prospekt, everyone took it as a symbol to begin the uprising. Barney is currently aiming a push towards the Citadel in order to rescue your father, with the help of Gordon’s friends.” Kleiner comforted as he broke away from Alyx, heading to the room where they’d previously been keeping the HEV suit. “And another of your friends arrived several days ago.”

As the rolling door opened, that massive robot Gordon had met just before Ravenholm popped out.

“Dog, you made it!” Alyx said in relief as the robot scooped her up in its arms. “Good boy!”

“Wait, so hold on—first off, you didn’t answer my question: why are there so many of you?” Gordon asked the Dr. Coomer closest to him. “Second off, what’s in the Citadel that could help us? Third, are we _sure_ Joshua will be safe, and—uhh, whatever number I’m on—so you found Tommy, does that mean you’ve found Benry? Also, how far is everyone? Will I be able to catch up?”

“Well...one, because the transfer to this world couldn’t seem to fully reconcile us Harold personalities that were still separate in the original Harold’s mind.” One of the Coomers started. “Two, we don’t know. Three, Joshua is very far away from here, so he _should_ be safe—safer than if he was with us. Four, not yet. And five, if going completely uninterrupted, yes, you may be able to catch up.”

“But you don’t seem to be doing well, Gordon.” Another Coomer said, placing a hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “Perhaps it’s best if you stay here with us. You gave us quite a scare, there! It’ll be safer for you here.”

Gordon shook his head, pushing himself uneasily to his feet. “No, no—I have to be there for everyone.” Gordon insisted. “Who knows what could happen without me?”

“Gordon, _please_ stay here.” Another Coomer pleaded. “The others are _very_ happy to know you’re alive and well, but none of us want to risk you getting hurt. Let them handle it.”

“Noooo way.” Gordon said, shaking his head and immediately regretting it when it made him dizzy. “I gotta be there to help everyone. Is this, like, that Coomer hivemind thing? They already know I’m fine? Tell them I’ll catch up with them soon.”

“Tommy is very vehemently insisting you stay.”

“Well, Tommy can deal! I’m coming.”

Gordon and the Coomers looked over as they heard another voice coming from Kleiner’s computer. “Doc! Come in, are you there?” Barney called.

“Yes, Barney—and you won’t believe who showed up!” Kleiner replied, nodding back towards Gordon and Alyx. “Alyx and Gordon have just arrived.”

“Well, man, that’s good news! I almost gave you guys up for lost!” Barney said with a smile as Alyx waved to him. “We’re planning to set up a staging area for attacking the Citadel. Gordon’s friends are all out helping the others right now.”

Alyx turned back to Gordon. “Well, Gordon, you said you want to join them, right? Dog can go with you. I wanna get Dr. Kleiner somewhere safer.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Gordon replied, smiling at Dog. “Big robot on my side! That’ll be cool.”

One of the Coomers gripped Gordon’s shoulder. “...Well, Gordon, if you’re insisting on going...I’ll come along as well.”

“You sure, man?” Gordon asked. “If Alyx is gonna take Kleiner somewhere safer, maybe you guys should all go with them.”

“...Gordon, if any of us die, we’ll be just fine.” Dr. Coomer said. “We’ll simply return to the original Harold’s consciousness, exactly the same way it was before. Personally, I feel I’ve been hiding long enough, while everyone else risks their necks to take us back home. If you’re going through the city as it is now, I’ll be able to guide you to the others, and let them all know if you’re in trouble.”

Gordon nodded. “...Okay. Thanks, Dr. Coomer. But I’m not gonna let you _die,_ obviously.”

“Once I get Kleiner and whoever else is coming along somewhere safer, I’ll meet up with you guys.” Alyx said, looking to Barney on the screen.

“I’ll take all the help I can get.” Barney said exhaustedly before looking up as something began roaring above him. “Oh, crap! Incoming!”

Something exploded nearby as Barney ducked down and covered his head.

“Go on, get going!” Barney said to them before the call ended.

Alyx turned back to Gordon and the Coomers. “Alright, Gordon, you heard him. Anyone else coming with me and Dr. Kleiner?”

The Coomers all exchanged glances, coming to some brief, silent agreement.

“I’ll come with.” Two of them said, stepping towards Alyx and Kleiner.

“We’ll stick with you, Gordon.” Another one of them said as the final one nodded.

“I’ll catch up with you as soon as I’ve got the doctors settled.” Alyx told Gordon.

“Now, hold on—where did Lamarr get off to...?” Kleiner muttered, looking around the lab.

“Oh, no.” Alyx groaned. “Go on, guys, I’ll take care of this. Be safe out there.”

Alyx hit the button to open the door out of the lab, allowing Gordon, the two Coomers, and Dog out into the hall. The door shut behind them, Gordon hearing muffled discussion about Lamarr as he and his friends began their journey to meet up with everyone else.

Gordon quickly found that the Coomers he was with didn’t have cybernetic enhancements—thankfully, Dog was able to help them up and down places their aching joints wouldn’t allow them access to otherwise. The building that Gordon remembered the lab being a part of was barely even a building, anymore; sometime during the rebellion, most of it had been crushed, old abandoned cars on fire nearby and the walls and ceiling still crumbling around them.

“Hey, so like, can I call you two something else to distinguish between you guys?” Gordon asked. One of them was wearing a lab coat while another just wore the citizen uniform, at least, making it possible to tell them apart.

The one with the lab coat shrugged as they exchanged a glance.

“If you’d like to call one of us Harold, that’s fine by me.” The one without the lab coat said.

“Okay. I’ll call you Harold.” Gordon replied with a nod before looking to the one in a lab coat. “What about you? I feel like it might be easy if we’ve got like, a name for him, you, and the Dr. Coomer out with the others.”

“There’s two of us with the others.” Harold pointed out.

“Jesus! How many of you are there?”

“Six.” The one with the lab coat answered. “Well, if you’d like to call me by my middle name, I suppose that would be fine.”

“Okay. What’s your middle name?”

“Pontiff.”

Gordon did his very best not to let an amused, baffled laugh out—he knew Dr. Coomer had chosen his name himself, and understandably wouldn’t take kindly to him laughing at it. “Why’d you choose Pontiff?” He asked.

Pontiff shrugged. “It just has a nice ring to it. _Harold Pontiff Coomer._ I like it.”

“Yeah, it does.” Gordon agreed. “I didn’t really have a reason for mine, either, it just sounded good. My parents wanted me to choose something at least close to my old one, so I went as wildly different as I possibly could.”

“Ah, yes, understandable.” Pontiff nodded. “It feels good, to get a fresh start with a new name, doesn’t it?”

Gordon smiled. “Yeah! It does.”

Gordon had sort of hoped to keep to the shadows and hide from the Combine as they made their way towards the Citadel, but that wasn’t really happening, with Dog around. Thankfully, Dog made a very good fighter; even after Gordon redistributed his weapons to the Coomers, they seemed too nerve-wracked to fight, so Gordon and Dog teamed up as they headed through the city.

It wasn’t just soldiers on the ground, though; the city was in absolute shambles from helicopters, weirdly alive alien planes and giant spider-ish things both with laser guns attached to them. The Coomers grew exhausted quickly as they ran through the city; Dog ended up scooping up one in each arm to tuck them away into one building that still had a ceiling while Gordon fired wildly at one of those flying alien things, screaming as he dodged laser shots. It was worse than Black Mesa—for however terrifying that was, this was a literal, very real war zone. Once he’d managed to bring down the alien in the sky, he let out a deeply relieved breath, checking his immediate surroundings first for more danger before poking his head into the building Dog and the Coomers were hiding in.

“It’s safe, c’mon.” Gordon announced.

Dog continued carrying the Coomers along, cradled in each arm.

“How far are we?” Gordon asked, joints aching as he walked.

“It shouldn’t be too much further, now.” Harold replied. “Everyone is very eager to see you again.”

“Aww! I’m excited to see them, too.” Gordon said with a smile. “So...you said they haven’t found Benry, yet?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Pontiff answered, looking up towards the Citadel. “Tommy has said that it’ll be easier to find him once we reach our goal at the Citadel and he’s able to stop G-Man. We don’t know what his plan is, though, considering G-Man will hear him, if he tells us what it is.”

Gordon shuddered. “Oh, that’s freaky. Why can G-Man hear him? Is he like, tracking us?”

“I believe Tommy said he’s mostly tracking _you._ ” Harold told him. “But with their newfound powers over reality, after the death of the player, they’re both able to see many things we ordinarily could not, and Tommy has used his sway a little bit to help us along.”

Gordon stared back at Harold. “I—what? Huh? You just threw me, like, so many curveballs just now, can we backtrack a little bit? The player is _dead?_ ”

“Oh, yes.” Pontiff nodded. “Tommy informed us G-Man killed him to usurp his power and bring us here.”

“Whoa.” Gordon muttered. “...That’s...fucked up.”

“...It is.” Pontiff sighed.

“He was just, like—I mean, I don’t know, I felt complicated about him.” Gordon went on, scratching his head. “I imagined him as some horrible puppet master or whatever before I met him. But he was just, like...sort of a guy. Y’know? Just some alternate version of me in a very different world.”

“How do you mean, Gordon?”

“Well, he said he was controlling me _at first._ ” Gordon explained, furrowing his brow. “He used his power to bring you guys to life, in a sense, and then things like, kinda took a life of their own. Including me. So I guess I’m _like_ him, but not exactly.”

“...Our reality certainly is strange.” Pontiff said thoughtfully.

It took a lot more exhausting fighting through the city, but eventually, Gordon was startled by the sound of Alyx calling after him. He turned in the room he was currently stood in with the Coomers—Dog had to find an alternate route, being unable to fit inside the building—seeing Alyx poke her head through the doorway.

“Gordon! Dr. Coomer! I had a feeling I’d find you here.” She says. “Everyone else is safe, for now. Now we can join up with Barney and the others. There’s a command center downstairs—I’m hoping to find information about generator locations.”

“Huh? Why?” Gordon asked as he and the Coomers walked through the hallways behind Alyx.

“We’re trying to disable as many as we can to loosen the Combine’s grip on this sector.” Alyx replied. “I’m _pretty_ sure there’s one nearby—I’ll just need to expose the core, and you’ll hit it with a burst with the gravity gun.”

“Oh, alright. Uhh—I mean, will that take long?” Gordon questioned, glancing back at the Coomers. “I wanna be sure we get to the others before they start pushing towards the Citadel again. They’re gonna need my help.”

“Of course, it shouldn’t take long. It’ll be a tremendous help if we can get this generator down.” Alyx reassured him.

After finding the nearest Combine computer setup, killing many soldiers along the way, Alyx located the nearest generator. They were joined by numerous other rebellion fighters in a little square in the street below, where they found a Combine computer console hooked up to wires beside an old water fountain, protected by a large metal shield. The Coomers both cowered behind the shield, guns held closely as they waited for the fight to end.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Gordon reassured them, listening as he began to hear radio chatter. “We’ll be with the others soon.”

“Be careful, Gordon.” Harold said, placing a hand on Gordon’s shoulder.

Gordon nodded and stepped out from behind the shield, checking the surrounding streets for soldiers. It wasn’t so bad at first—they tended to flood in in groups from only one street at a time at first, making it almost like fish in a barrel. They started coming in from multiple angles at once, though; the Coomers provided good backup for Alyx while she worked on getting the generator deactivated, and the other rebel fighters helped significantly, but Gordon quickly began to feel overwhelmed as more and more began flooding into the square. Gordon decided to run for cover, stopped by an explosion of pain in his leg. He fell to the ground hard, his cry of pain mostly drowned out by insistent gunfire.

“Ah, fuck!” Gordon sho ted through gritted teeth. A p el in the le of the HEV suit h been w ak ed si cantly and finally punctured thr . He could f lo d trickli g d n his leg i side. He curled his fi s into fis s, ggling to nd stand.

Gordo

LOADING...

Gordon is on the ground, but luckily, the soldiers are preoccupied right now trying to fight everyone else. He finds a m

a

  
  


jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjb

LOADING...

>Now, Tommy, I have things well in hand. There is no reason to try and take control. I need Gordon alive as well, you know.

LOADING...

>I don't trust you with Gordon! I'm taking control back.

LOADING...

>I cannot allow you to take control of Gordon's perspective. Please, Tommy, allow me to work, or I will be forced to take measures against you.

The sound of gunfire overwhelmed Gordon in his current state, as he began to d ag i lf to a n arb bo . H

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeejjd

d

a aaaaaaaam

  
  


b

LOADING...

Gordon is fine. Gordon is okay. He’ll be okay, he s

  
  


ffm ff n

m ggggggggggggggggggggggg j

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Gordon’s eyes wr nched shut in pa n as h

LOADING...

Gord n

LOADING...

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LOADING...

Gordon Freeman opens his eyes again.

Gunfire surrounds him as he stands in the middle of an unfamiliar street, still wearing the HEV suit. Taking in a sharp breath in surprise, he finds a shotgun in his gloved hands, which he wields by instinct, taking down intimidating figures wearing masks that shoot at people wearing blue uniforms.

“Gordon!” A voice shouts.

Gordon looks up in response to his name, watching an old man dart out from behind a massive metal shield to a person curled up in a heap on the ground. He can’t see the face of the one on the ground, but he’s wearing something distinctly familiar. Orange and black, metal shielding, covering every inch of the man’s body but his head. Another old man who looks identical to the first steps out as well to shoot at a masked attacker who tries to shoot them down, protecting the first old man as he drags the one in the HEV suit to safety. Gordon heaves up his gun and shoots down more people in masks.

Gordon has no idea where he is, or why he’s in the middle of a fight—he seems to have a tendency to get himself into these situations, but at least that makes for good muscle memory. He helps the people in blue bring down the people in masks until he hears his name spoken again.

“Gordon! The core’s exposed. Use the gravity gun.” An unfamiliar voice says.

Gravity gun? Gordon looks down at the shotgun in his hands. He has another gun strapped to him—a little handgun—and his crowbar attached to his back, but he doesn’t have anything else that seems gravity gun-ish. He looks behind him, where he finds a big device that must have risen out of the sidewalk behind that metal shield, with a glowing electric ball bouncing up and down between the ceiling and the floor of the device.

That man wearing an HEV suit steps out again. Gordon still can’t see his face, only his suit and messy ponytail as he sort of limps to the device with a big barrel-ish looking gun glowing orange. He shoots some sort of electric projectile at it, releasing the ball from the device as more soldiers begin to shoot at them.

>...

>What the hell?

“Alright, I’m opening the gate.” That first voice says. Massive metal doors just beyond that device leading to another street begin to open, and the people in blue, the man in the HEV suit, and the old men Gordon assumes must be identical twins start to run through. If there’s another man in an HEV suit, Gordon assumes he must want to be with them, so he quickly begins to follow behind them through the doors behind a woman who leaves the console behind that first shield. Once they’re all through, she steps behind another shield with a console, and the others all begin retaliating against soldiers who are attempting to follow. Gordon shoots back as well, and quickly, the doors slide shut behind them.

The woman lets out a deeply relieved sigh. “Awesome. Good work, Gordon. Barney should be on the far side of that canal.” She says.

Gordon stows his shotgun so he can sign back to her. “Barney’s here?” He tries to ask, but she barely spares him a glance.

“Hey, no problem.” That man in the HEV suit sighs. “Is Barney with everyone else?”

Gordon finally turns to take a look at the other HEV suit wearer. The other man looks back at him, as do the twins, as the woman turns away towards the other side of the street.

“Wh-...” The man in the HEV suit starts to say, then stops, eyes widening.

Gordon stares back at him, feeling just as confused as he looks. In fact, he sort of feels like he must be staring into a mirror; aside from the hair, which Gordon himself cut short just before the resonance cascade, this other man looks _exactly_ like him. He moves to adjust his glasses on his face, as though that’ll make everything clearer—just as the other man moves to do the exact same thing. They both pause mid-motion, then lift their hands up as if they’re about to wave at each other.

“...Gordon, why...” One of the twins says, looking between the two. “Why are there _two_ of you?”

Gordon frowns. “ _I’m_ Gordon.” He signs before carefully approaching the other man.

“But—I’m—...” The other man starts to say, then suddenly, some sort of realization seems to dawn on him. “Holy shit. You’re Gordon Freeman.”

Gordon nods, quirking an eyebrow at the other man.

“Dude, I am too! Sorta!” The other man says, a sort of manic expression spreading on his face. “I’m like—I’m from another, uhhhh...reality than you. Dude, how did you _get_ here? You must be the one who’s supposed to be here!”

“I just got here a minute ago.” He signs, looking around. “The last I knew, I was taken into some sort of void by a man wearing a suit right after I defeated the alien I was sent to the another world to kill.”

“Ohhh, man.” The other Gordon sighs, putting a hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “I would _love_ to hear all about how that was actually supposed to go, sometime, but I really gotta find my friends.”

“So—hold on.” That woman says, stepping closer to Gordon and looking between the two of them. “You’re...the Gordon that belongs to _this_ world?”

Gordon can’t help but shrug. “You mentioned Barney.” He reminds her hopefully.

“Oh!” She says, finally noticing him signing. “Yeah, Barney should be nearby. There’s just...the matter of _that._ ”

She indicates to the road ahead. There’s a sort of canal in the street that must have been connected by a bridge, at some point; it’s collapsed now, though, making it impassible to the next street.

“I’m Alyx, by the way.” She says. “I think my dad worked with you? Eli Vance?”

Gordon nods with a smile as he recognizes the name—Eli Vance, of course, he loved working with him—but pauses, looking Alyx over. “You seem a bit old to be Eli’s daughter.” He comments.

“Oh, yeah. It’s been 20 years since the resonance cascade.” Alyx says, her sentence punctuated by a distant explosion somewhere else.

“Oh!” Gordon lets out a sigh partway between awe and relief. “Wow, 20 years? You’re so...big now! It feels to me like just the other day, you were only a toddler. Honestly, I’m mostly just glad to see you’re okay. I was worried about you during the resonance cascade, I had no idea if you, Eli, or Azian were okay.” 

Alyx frowns, to Gordon’s great worry. “Actually, Gordon...my mom didn’t make it out.”

”...Oh, I see.” Gordon signs slowly. “I’m sorry, Alyx.”

Alyx nods, looking away and taking a deep breath. “We’d _really_ better keep moving. I think Barney’ll be really happy to see you.”

Gordon hardly has a moment to ask anything else before Alyx rushes off, climbing nimbly up the building. She l ks o

u

mmmmmmmmmmmm

LOADING...

>Tommy. You cannot keep control forever.

>This has become quite the mess. While I will grant you that this iteration of Gordon has the benefit of less distractions--more stake in this universe and the fight against the Combine than the one we know so well already--two Gordons was never in my plan.

>One of them is going to have to go.

Gordon sta ed u th r A n s o

nmmmmmm

LOADING...

>Stop it!! The other Gordon was a mistake, I really don't know how that happened, but you can't just kill one of them!!

LOADING...

>This would not be an issue if you hadn't interfered.

LOADING...

>NONE of this would be an issue if you hadn't made the world like this!

LOADING...

>Tommy, let g

o

  
  


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	49. Gordons

LOADING...

>I may not be able to pull Gordon into a void to force control of his perspective like G-Man did, but I think there's something else I can do. I really, REALLY hope it works.

We’ve all been waiting for Gordon to arrive for a little while now. He’s gotten sidetracked after they were separated from Alyx, getting stopped by more fights, but they manage to push through. Dr. Coomer updates us on his status as he goes along, but I’m watching him, too, and while the path isn’t _totally_ safe, Gordon’s got people to help him. Particularly the canon Gordon—umm, maybe I should call him something else to make it easier. Freeman? Freeman’s _really_ intense in a fight. Gordon tends to get really lucky most of the time, combined with his actual experience from the resonance cascade; Freeman’s almost freaky, though, with how well he operates in this setting. He’s just barely keeping up with everything that’s going on, but he just charges right into things without a second thought and almost always makes it out with barely a scratch on him.

Soon, with a lot of trouble because of the Coomer clones’ age, the clones and the Gordons make it to some mostly wrecked building, trying to find another way through to the next street over. Freeman hears Barney’s voice, calling his name. He grins, rushing ahead and taking out several zombies with ease. Barney’s perched up on top of what used to be the roof of the building they’re in, visible through a hole in the ceiling.

“Gordon, I can’t move, these snipers got me pinned down.” Barney calls. “Lob a couple grenades, that’ll clear ‘em out.”

>Huh. I was trying to fast forward to when they get here. I guess there are some things I can't skip? That's so weird, but I'm on MY perspective--I guess since I'm watching them, I have to sit through certain parts...?

Freeman scoops up a couple of grenades, quickly spotting the snipers Barney was talking about. He makes quick work of taking them out, and Barney breathes out a sigh of relief. “Alright, thanks, Gordon.” He calls as he stands to meet them downstairs.

Freeman waits beside the staircase he’s expecting Barney at with a smile. Once he sees him, he tucks away his gun to wave at him.

“Good to see you again, Gordon.” Barney says casually, stopping mid-step as he starts to move on and sees the other Gordon. “Whoa, wait. Hold on.”

“Yeah, _that’s_ the one who’s from this universe.” Gordon says, nodding to Freeman.

Barney looks back at Freeman, checking him over. “Well, I’ll be damned! When the hell did you get here?”

“About an hour ago. I’m very confused.” Freeman replies. “What happened? Alyx said it’s been 20 years since the resonance cascade.”

“Oh, boy. We’ve got a lot to talk about, but not enough time.” Barney says, putting a free hand on Freeman’s shoulder. His hand lingers there, squeezing it a little around the HEV suit. “It’s really, _really_ good to see you again, Gordon.”

Freeman smiles and nods in agreement. 

“For now, we gotta keep moving. We gotta rescue Eli from the Citadel and get other Gordon’s friends where they need to be.” Barney says. “Let’s get moving.”

The group pushes forward, Barney filling Freeman in the best he can on what’s been going on. Fascist alien empire, Dr. Breen using the war 20 years ago to gain power—sounds about right—inter-dimensional stuff with the other Gordon, Eli’s been taken because he’s an important figure in the rebellion...it would all sound outlandish and ridiculous to Freeman, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s seeing it all happen right in front of him. He’s glad he doesn’t have to fight alone this time, though; Barney’s here, and the other Gordon and his friends seem to be handling themselves pretty well. They have to take out some suppression device being held in an old building next in order to semi-safely make the final push towards the “Citadel”. Freeman’s pretty tired at this point, but he’s getting sort of used to being overwhelmed and tired after everything else he had to get through. The minute he gets a chance, he’s _gotta_ get a nap.

As they get to the first room inside the building, they take down the security there, and Gordon’s careful to barricade the door as his elderly friends seem to be reaching their limits.

“Guys, just—wait here.” Gordon says to them, placing a hand on each shoulder. “I promise, it’ll be fine. We’ll get in there, shut the device down, and I’ll come right back for you. Okay?”

“I can keep going.” One of them in a lab coat says.

Gordon bites his lip, seemingly u i ln t s w t s truly o his m .

“You guys, y

“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””’’’’’d

>No no no n

****

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LOADING...

Gordon watched his counterpart struggle to figure out what to tell his friends. Barney ended up coming to his rescue, approaching with a gentle tone.

“It’s gonna be real dangerous in there, guys.” He said carefully. “It’s better if you wait here. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Pontiff, Harold...” His counterpart said, looking them each in the eyes. “I know you guys will be fine if you die, technically. But I don’t know that I could stomach it if you did. You’re both tired, you don’t have cybernetic enhancements—it’s just safer this way. Okay? Watch out for each other.”

The one that seemed to be called Pontiff nodded slowly, Harold hugging Gordon’s counterpart tightly.

“We gotta get moving.” Barney reminded them gently.

The Gordons and Barney kept going, forcing their way into the building to shut down the generators powering that suppression device one by one. There were all sorts of traps set out, complicating things significantly, but they managed to get past with minimal damage. The other Gordon was a little high strung, actually, compared to Gordon himself; he couldn’t really blame him, but he was constantly giving away their location by his intense need to shout. At least he made up for it by being a pretty good shot.

“Oh, Christ. Please tell me we’re almost done.” The other Gordon sighed.

“Yup, almost.” Barney replied, nodding down the hall. “This next one oughta do it.”

As they were headed for the next generator, they were led through some supply room. Gordon eagerly began restocking his ammo, storing some medical supplies as well as Barney followed close behind. The moment Barney stepped through, the doors on both ends slammed shut as an alarm sounded, leaving Gordon and Barney trapped—Gordon’s counterpart outside.

“Wh—hey!” His counterpart shouted.

“We’re surrounded!” Barney said.

Sure enough, Gordon began hearing those soldiers approaching. The other Gordon cried out in surprise as gunfire began echoing through the halls outside, Gordon catching glimpses of him being surrounded on both ends by soldiers through holes in the drywall. Gordon aimed his gun through the hole, taking some of the soldiers out as his counterpart fought desperately for his life.

“Oh god, oh, fuck!” His counterpart cursed outside.

Gordon gritted his teeth, looking around the room for anything to help. He grabbed a grenade from a box, pulling the pin and tossing it out. The soldiers broke up instantly to avoid it, giving his counterpart the space he needed to run. He spri ted d n the hall immediate y, more gun e reverberating do the halls after him. Fuck. Gordon w n’t s he wa oing to la on hi , if th y di d their way out of that roo at h up w h 

.

G d f s d sfhs

m

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LOADING...

Gordon manages to f

sa e r

P

  
  


LOADING...

>Tommy. You are testing my patience.

LOADING...

>I know what you're trying to do! You separated Gordon from Freeman and Barney so you can kill him off!

LOADING...

>Stop interfering.

LOADING...

>No, stop trying to kill my friend!

LOADING...

>You don't know what you're doing.

LOADING...

>I know exactly what I'm doing! In fact, I' g

LOADING...

pl s n, leaving Gordon’s eaRS RINGING A

>How do I turn that off.

LOADING...

>The fucking caps lock? How did you do that?

>...Hello?

I look to everyone else. They’ve been watching me with worry as I fight G-Man for control, but I don’t have the time to explain anything to them.

“I have to go for now.” I announce to them, standing up. “I can’t take you guys with me, but I can go help Gordon.”

“ _Please_ be careful, Tommy.” Dr. Coomer says as Darnold squeezes my hand.

“I will. I’ll be back.” I tell them, opening up a doorway into the void. I step through with little trouble, immediately faced with G-Man as the doorway closes behind me.

“I am not going, to, let you out, if you intend to go to Gordon.” G-Man tells me as I try to open another doorway. The small slit at the bottom opens up, but that’s all I can get before it closes again.

I growl, stalking forward towards G-Man. His eyes widen as I draw my fist back and swing at him. He doesn’t expect it, so he’s powerless to stop me as I punch him right in the face. He reels backwards, and I take my opportunity to open another doorway, running into it before he can force it shut again.

Gordon is currently catching his breath in an empty supply room, staring in awe at me as I join him in the room, drawing my gun.

“Hi, Gordon.” I greet.

“Dude, holy shit!” Gordon blurts out, running forward and wrapping his arms around me tightly. “What the hell was that door? Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m here because I’m—I’m worried about _you._ ” I tell him, hugging him back tightly. “We don’t have a lot of time. There’s only one generator left, we might still be able to catch up with Freeman and Barney.”

“How’d you—”

“I can see things, now, don’t worry about it.” I remind him hurriedly. “Let’s go.”

We run through the building, taking out more soldiers as we go. Barney and Freeman have already forced their way out of that supply room, so we stop really quick to gather leftover supplies and keep going. It’s fine, this time, if control gets taken from me again—I hope—because regardless of who’s in control, I’m still _physically_ here with Gordon. I’ll be able to protect him either way.

We manage to catch up to Barney and Freeman at the last generator. Barney and Freeman look surprised to see me.

“Oh, umm—” Barney snaps his fingers, trying to remember my name. “Tommy! When’d you get _here?_ I thought you were with the others.”

“I really, _really_ don’t have the energy to explain anything right now.” I say dismissively.

Freeman nods towards the generator—he doesn’t have a gravity gun, himself, leaving the generator duties to Gordon. Gordon shoots at the electric ball that somehow keeps the generator running, knocking it out of place and powering the generator down.

“That’s the last one!” Barney announces. “Let’s head up to the roof.”

Barney stays behind at one of the consoles to keep the gates open as long as he can, so we all can head up to the roof and connect the skybridge or something and let rebels through, I don’t know—I’m not really paying that close attention. To be honest, I’m sort of wondering if I should just take Gordon, Pontiff and Harold and head for the Citadel, and let Freeman, Alyx, and Barney handle all of the actual Half Life plotline stuff. Then again, I guess we sort of _have_ to get all these things done to make getting into the Citadel easier...

At the very least, I’m _pretty_ sure this is the last thing that would need to get done before we can finally actually get to the Citadel, if Barney didn’t leave anything out while he was going through the plans with us. I decide to push forward with the two Gordons and get the skybridge thing in order, but it’s a mess up on the roof. There’s pretty much every massive alien with a gun we’ve encountered so far, and there’s a _lot_ of them, along with more soldiers. Between the three of us, we manage t

ake th

m d o a l

LOADING...

Gordon was following behind Tommy. He looked like he was thinking hard about something else during the fight; he was precise as always, though, almost always hitting soldiers perfectly on the first shot. Such a mirror of their experiences in Black Mesa—Gordon trusted all his friends, but Tommy was on another level. He was someone who had put so much on the line in order to protect him after such a harsh betrayal. People throw the phrase “trust with your life” around a lot for vague, jokey emphasis; but Tommy Coolatta was the one he genuinely felt that way towards.

Gordon’s hands shook as he retaliated, making it harder to aim properly. At least Freeman was providing good help as well, he thought. Gordon cursed when he found himself out of ammo, searching carefully for another supply box—those things were everywhere, he could usually rely on them pretty well—when he saw a blur out of nowhere, rushing right towards him. Metal _clanked_ against metal as he was tackled to the ground, pinned underneath the weight of the other Gordon as lasers hit just inches away from where Gordon had been standing.

“Oh my god.” Gordon breathed as the other Gordon hopped off of him. “I could’ve been dead. Thank you, man.”

The other Gordon nodded, giving him a thumbs up before firing another rocket at one of those flying aliens.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked, helping Gordon to his feet.

“Yeah, as long as we—” Gordon started, his words turning to a scream of surprise when the roof crumbled beneath his feet.

Tommy caught his hand before he fell to the floor below, dragging him back up to what seemed to be solid ground.

“Holy shit! I can’t catch a break, can I?” Gordon wheezed a nervous laugh.

Tommy gave Gordon an intense stare, gripping his wrist tightly. “Gordon. Stay close to me.”

Gordon nodded. “Y-yeah, sure, dude.”

Gordon stuck close to Tommy as they pushed forward, managing to get the skybridge in place, as Barney had requested. Gordon had way too many close calls for comfort, breathing out a sigh of short-lived relief once they were across the bridge and in another enclosed space. They were going to have to go back out and face more of those spider-looking things, though, if they wanted to get back to Pontiff and Harold to keep going towards the Citadel. Then, apparently, get whatever Tommy needed out of it, find Benry, fight G-Man, then go home. They were almost done, Gordon reassured himself as they stepped back out onto the street. Just a little further.

God, Benry. Gordon felt a little bad for jumping to conclusions before about how Benry was clearly out to get them, intentionally or not. Maybe it was just the familiar situation bringing back other feelings he thought he’d left behind; he _did_ hope Benry was okay, wherever he was. They could certainly use his help—he could probably bring down all these massive aliens and all the soldiers with hardly any issues, given his powers.

Even just beyond that...Gordon felt his stomach twist into knots as he finally began to picture what sort of situation he would be in that might keep him from joining the group. Was he lost? In trouble? Hurt? He didn’t seem to have a lot of awareness for danger, so in a world like this, he could too easily picture Benry just walking right up to Combine soldiers and getting himself killed. Maybe _that_ was why they couldn’t find him yet—he might be dead somewhere, and they wouldn’t even know.

“Get down!” Tommy urged Gordon as a spider thing began shooting at them, shocking Gordon out of his anxiety spiral. Gordon dropped to the ground behind a car, hidden fairly well underneath a part of the parapet roof of the building they’d just exited. “Stay down, I’ll take care of it. Umm—Freeman?”

The other Gordon looked at Tommy curiously.

“I really, really, _really_ need you to keep an eye on him.” Tommy said, putting his hands on the other Gordon’s shoulders and staring at him carefully.

The other Gordon nodded.

Tommy sighed, taking ownership of the rocket launcher. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

“Tommy, hold on, there’s like—three of them!” Gordon protested.

“We kinda only have one—umm, one rocket launcher.” Tommy pointed out.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“Yes! Sit down and wait for me! _Please!_ ” Tommy snapped.

Gordon held up his hands in defeat. “O-okay. Sure.”

Tommy ran off into the street, firing with perfect precision towards one of the spider-ish things before ducking into another hiding spot to reload. The other Gordon tapped Gordon’s shoulder to get his attention.

“What are you looking for in the Citadel?” He asked.

“Man, I don’t even _know,_ we—”

The other Gordon’s eyes widened suddenly as he looked past him, immediately reaching out to Gordon and shoving him down as the ground around them was sprayed with bullets. The two Gordons drew their guns, shooting back towards soldiers starting to close in on them. They worked pretty good as a team, taking down soldiers left and right as Tommy brought down the huge aliens. Gordon felt safer with these two—he had no idea how he would’ve survived all this on his own. With them having his back, he probably didn’t even need to be on high alert, he caught himself thinking.

Wait, he thought as he shook his head—that was stupid, of course he should be on high alert.

Eventually, the last spider thing came down, and Tommy jogged back to the Gordons with a deep sigh of relief. “Okay. Let’s g—”

Gordon heard a loud _crack_ above him. In the blink of an eye, he was falling onto his backside, a good foot away from where he’d previously been as a massive chunk of the parapet roof crashed to the ground, _right_ where he had been standing. Tommy stood to the side, suddenly—certainly, with how fast everything had just happened, Tommy must have stopped time to push him out of the way.

“Oh my fucking god! It’s like—it’s like we’re—we’re in the goddamn Roadrunner Show!” Tommy shouted, pressing the heels of his hands to his temples. His voice broke a little bit as he buried his face in his hands. “I’m _so tired._ ”

Gordon laid flat on his back a he r c d f m t

m

LOADING...

>Okay. As long as I try to keep control, G-Man can't

LOADING...

>Enough, Tommy.

Y

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	50. Chapter 50

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Darnold paces back and forth as he waits for Tommy to return, preferably with Gordon. They’re in position, now—they have been for a little bit—ready to start towards the Citadel on Barney’s signal, but if there’s one thing Darnold knows, it’s that he’s not leaving without Tommy.

“Have you seen them yet?” Darnold asks Dr. Coomer anxiously.

“No, not yet—oh!” Dr. Coomer perks up suddenly. “The Gordons and Tommy have finally come back for Harold and Pontiff!”

“Are they okay?”

Dr. Coomer pauses, putting a hand to his chin for a long few seconds as he closes his eyes. After a suspenseful moment, he finally looks back up at Darnold. “Yes, they’re just fine. Our Gordon seems quite shaken up, though.”

Darnold pokes his head out the door of the building they’re currently hiding in. There’s a light layer of smoke settling on the street, the sounds of gunfire and stomping echoing across the city. He sees one of those striders up ahead—too far to be a threat to them, but imposing nonetheless. He steps back in, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“I hope they’ll be okay.” Darnold murmurs.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Bubby says, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Tommy and Gordon have always been able to handle themselves. Together, they’ll be safe.”

“I should know.” The clone chimes in with a nod. “Tommy stopped myself and all the other clones I was commanding all on his own, after all.”

Darnold hums anxiously, going back to pacing. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s—it’s gonna be fine.”

Dr. Coomer continues to give them updates as they wait, Darnold growing more tense progressively as they get closer and closer. Soon, Dr. Coomer stands up, an excited smile on his face as the clone pushes himself up with much more trouble.

“They’re just down the street!” Dr. Coomer announces.

Darnold, the Coomers, and Bubby all poke their heads out, watching the street carefully. Soon, they see Tommy turn the corner, quickly followed by two different Gordons—wow, they _really_ look exactly alike, the only way to tell is the hair. Darnold doesn’t pay that close attention to that, though; he sprints out of the building to throw his arms around Tommy and the Gordon he does know.

“I was so worried!” Darnold says, squeezing them both tightly. “Oh, god, Gordon. I thought—I thought you were _dead._ I’m so sorry I left you and Alyx alone in Nova Prospekt.”

“What? No, dude, that’s not your fault.” Gordon replies, patting Darnold’s back. “I mean, we made it out just fine, it just took a while. I wouldn’t want you to have gotten hurt!”

“It’s okay.” Tommy tells him, hugging him back one-handed as he holds his gun in his other hand. “We gotta get moving to the Citadel, now. Barney said he’ll—umm, he _should_ meet us in the plaza. I think Alyx’ll be there too? I don’t know.”

“Hello, Gordons!” Dr. Coomer greets enthusiastically.

Darnold pulls away so Dr. Coomer can wrap the Gordon they know up in a tight hug. Bubby joins in slightly more awkwardly.

“It’s good to see you’re okay.” Bubby says.

“You guys, too!” Gordon says, voice straining a bit with how tight Dr. Coomer is hugging him. “Sorry you guys thought I died.”

“Yeah, well, don’t do it again.” Bubby huffs, pulling away to cross their arms.

“Oh, so guys—this is the Gordon that actually belongs to this universe.” Gordon introduces, placing a hand on Freeman’s shoulder. “Gordon, these are my friends who went through Black Mesa with me.”

“Are you quadruplets?” Freeman asks the Coomers.

“Clones, actually!” Dr. Coomer replies cheerily.

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

“Okay, you guys.” Tommy interrupts, squeezing Darnold’s hand tightly in his own. “We gotta—we gotta go. Like, _right now._ I don’t know how much longer I can hold onto this.”

“Maybe Pontiff and Harold should stay here.” Gordon suggests, nodding to the building they were hiding in before.

“That’s a good idea.” Dr. Coomer says. The Coomers all exchange a brief, knowing glance, and Pontiff and Harold head into the building together, leaving them with just two Coomers.

Tommy starts walking, still holding onto Darnold’s hand, and everyone follows close behind. Darnold honestly had expected that once they were mostly all together, he’d be following Gordon into a fight—that’s how it was last time, from what he had heard, but Tommy seems to know exactly what they need to do and where to go better than Gordon does.

“So—this is it?” Darnold asks, looking to Tommy. “Citadel time?”

Tommy nods back at him. “Yeah. It’s gonna—I’m gonna do my best to hold onto control, so G-Man can’t push it and kill Gordon. But I...might need your help.” Tommy looks to Darnold, brow furrowing. “I need a _lot_ of focus to hold on. So...umm...I might need you all to go in, and—keep an eye out for each other, and just trust your gut instincts. Okay? I’ll try to guide you to what you need to do the best that I can.”

Darnold nods, squeezing his hand. “Okay.”

“Wait, hold on, _kill_ me? Did I hear that right?” Gordon calls from behind them.

Tommy glances back in the Gordons’ direction. “Y-yeah, ummm, G-Man is trying to kill you. You specifically, Gordon, not Mr. Freeman, the one who’s supposed to be here.”

“What the—what did I ever do to him?!” Gordon demands.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay. Everyone just watch Gordon, okay?”

Everyone else agrees as they start to step into a large, safe-looking plaza, where numerous people from the rebellion are gathered, including a massive robot Darnold is pretty sure he recognizes from the feed of Eli’s lab. He hears Barney’s voice before he sees him chasing after the robot.

“Dog! Dog, get back here!” He shouts as Dog stops at a massive gate.

Freeman hurries forward, putting a hand on Barney’s shoulder to get his attention. Barney turns and smiles. “Well, look who made it! Hey, everyone.”

“Hello, Barney!” Dr. Coomer greets.

Barney nods back to Dog, who’s currently prying at the gate. “Dog came crashing through the plaza, knocking over walls...I think he’s looking for Alyx. He seems to have it set in his head that she’s in the Citadel.” He says. “I figured Alyx wouldn’t want him getting any deeper in trouble, but hell, _you_ try stopping him.”

Dog starts prying at the bottom of the gate with a low groan.

“Hey—Dog! Not there! You can’t get through that way!” Barney protests.

The gate lifts up, though, revealing a hole punctured through the sidewalk and looking at the group expectantly.

“...I think he wants you guys to go through.” Barney says, nodding to the hole in the sidewalk.

“Oh, you _cannot_ make me go in there.” Bubby replies flatly, crossing their arms.

“I think—I think this is it.” Tommy says, looking down into the hole. “You guys better go in. I’m—I have to find somewhere safe to keep control.”

Darnold frowns, looking up at Tommy as anxiety starts to surge in his chest. “...Maybe I should come with you and have your back, if you need me. You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

Tommy bites his lip, looking away. “...No. I—it’s a fair idea, it’s just—trust me, I _need_ you to go with the others.”

Darnold lets out a tense breath, reaching up to squeeze Tommy’s shoulder. “...Alright. I trust you. I love you.”

Tommy wraps his arms around Darnold tightly. “I love you, too.”

“Wait, what are we looking for in there?” Gordon asks.

Tommy pulls away tentatively from Darnold, holding his gun up. “Just—go in, look for Eli. And then Darnold, do what feels best. You’ll know what to do when you see it.”

Darnold nods. “Okay.”

Freeman hops into the hole first, stepping aside for the rest to come through. It’s a pretty big drop; Darnold lets the others through first, leaving just him and the clone still on the sidewalk.

“Jump on down! I’ll catch you!” Dr. Coomer calls up.

Darnold looks to the clone. The clone sighs before easing himself down to sit at the edge of the hole before sliding off, letting himself drop. Darnold hears an awkward collision, but when he peers down, they seem to be alright. Darnold closes his eyes before jumping down himself, caught perfectly in Dr. Coomer’s arms.

“Th-thanks.” Darnold says as Dr. Coomer sets him down.

“Good luck in there, guys!” Barney calls from above as they hear metal groaning. “And if you see Dr. Breen, tell him I said ‘fuck you’!”

Dog drops the section of gate he was holding up for them, plugging the hole behind them and trapping them inside. The Gordons both turn on their flashlights on their HEV suits.

“That guy’s alright.” Bubby comments. “I mean, _anyone_ who hates Breen is good in my book.”

“I agree.” Dr. Coomer chimes in as they begin walking down the long, dark corridor.

“...This doesn’t feel r ght.” The clone mutters beside Darnold.

“Hm?” Darnold asks.

The c one oks to Darnold, brow fur ow n . “ ?”

“Uhh—w

h

  
  


>Goddammi

  
  


LOADING...

>Tommy. I'm quite hurt you tried to remove me from this reality.

>It isn't that simple, though. It seems we're tied in much further than just the original moderated files, now, inseparable from the program we're running on. You're going to have to try much harder than that to get rid of me.

>I'm not going to give you the chance, though. This is your final warning. Do not interfere.

Gordon was at the head of the group walking down the long corridor towards what seemed to be the exit; the other Gordon and his friends in tow. He didn’t catch their names, but one of the clones and the man who looked like Eli were talking in the back, their voices echoing gently off the walls of the little tunnel.

“I mean—it’s _Tommy,_ though.” The Eli lookalike said with a frown. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m not saying he did it out of malice. I trust Tommy just as much as you do—certainly, whatever he’s doing is what needs to happen.” The clone replied calmly. “All I’m saying is...perhaps, we ought to be careful.”

Gordon paused midstep when he began to hear a _crack_ above him. H ook d u

“G , ”

LOADING...

Darnold suddenly gets a very intense feeling they should start running when he hears a _crack_ in the roof.

“Uh—huh?” Darnold says as his heart begins to race.

_Darnold gets the feeling he needs to tell everyone to run!_

“Guys! Run!” Darnold shouts.

Darnold grabs onto the clone’s arm, urging him forward. The others start running to the end of the tunnel, where Darnold watches them step to the side just outside the tunnel one by one very carefully. Darnold’s nearly at the end of the tunnel when it begins to shake, a very loud _crash_ echoing just behind him. Darnold refuses to look behind him, just pushing himself to run faster with a loud, terrified cry. Once he reaches the end of the tunnel, he nudges the clone forward, who shimmies out onto a thin path a ong the w l of a ive cl ff th t stre hes for mi es b n th m

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


LOADING...

>I told you, that was your final warning. I'm sorry, Tommy. It's time for you to face the consequences.

>...

>Tommy? Where are you?

Gordon stood on the small ledge he was provided, just barely large enough for him to fit on, as he watched Darnold and the Coomer clone nudge their way out of the tunnel to relative safety. Gordon breathed out a deep sigh of relief once they were both out, the tunnel collapsing behind them.

“Ohhhh, fuck.” Bubby said through gritted teeth, staring down into the pit below. It stretched on for miles beneath them; so deep, Gordon couldn’t see the bottom. Ahead of them, in the center of the massive pit, stood the Citadel—much too far to jump across to. “Let’s move, I _hate_ this.”

Gordon’s counterpart started to shimmy along the ledge ahead of them. Gordon moved to follow suit, swallowing hard as he watched rocks get kicked off by his movement, tumbling into the pit. He took a tentative step forward, careful with his weight, and breathed out a sigh of relief when—

Gordon shrieked as the ledge crumbled beneath his foot. He scrambled to find something to grab onto, only stopped from falling once Bubby’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist.

“Gordon!” Bubby exclaimed, pulling him up to safety. “Are you alright?”

“Oh my god. Oh, shit.” Gordon wheezed. “There—there _has_ to be something safer than this.”

Bubby swallowed hard, still holding onto Gordon. “I—I can...I can carry you across.”

“Huh?”

Bubby began levitating off the ground, reaching out to take Gordon under his arms. They both screamed in surprise as more of the ledge began crumbling beneath Gordon, Bubby drooping down a couple feet before lifting Gordon back up with a grunt.

“Oh my god! Dude, don’t drop me!” Gordon shouted impulsively.

“Yeah, sure, I’m just gonna _drop_ you.” Bubby bit back sarcastically. “Come on, stop squirming, let’s go.”

Bubby soared hastily towards the Citadel ahead of them, setting Gordon down roughly on a solid ledge with a deep mutual sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much, Bubby.” Gordon said.

“You two stay right there!” Dr. Coomer called to them. “I think I have an idea!”

“Okay, sure.” Gordon called back.

Dr. Coomer

LOADING...

Harold looks to his clone on the other side of Darnold. His clone knows exactly what his plan is, of course; and Harold desperately doesn’t want to test it on Darnold or the other Gordon, who could die permanently.

His clone is hesitant to risk it. He doesn’t want to give up his body if he doesn’t have to, and something could go wrong, he could _fall_ —but the ledge is clearly unsteady. It might be better to risk Harold’s plan than to risk the ledge. The clone bites his lip and nods slowly, making eye contact with Harold. Harold is thankful as he reaches around Darnold with his extendo-arms, taking the clone underneath his arms like Bubby had been holding Gordon. Harold carefully lifts him up and extends him across, and Bubby’s there to help him down on the ledge easily before Dr. Coomer’s arms snap back into place.

“Okay. Three down, three to go!” Gordon calls from the ledge of the Citadel.

Harold carefully reaches for Darnold next. Darnold squeezes his eyes shut, gripping Harold’s arms tightly in his hands for extra support as he’s lifted and carried across. Bubby receives him safely on the other side, leaving just himself and the other Gordon. The other Gordon is watching with wide eyes, looking Harold’s cybernetic arms over carefully.

“Who are you guys?” He asks in awe.

“Oh, we’re just scientists.” Harold replies. “Come along, I’ll get you across.”

The other Gordon isn’t quite so nervous about it as the others, taking it very well as Harold carries him over a seemingly bottomless pit. Harold sighs in relief once they’re all safe across, allowing his arms to snap back in place as he looks the Citadel over closely, trying to figure out what would be safe to grab onto.

“Come on, Harold!” Bubby shouts impatiently.

“Just a moment, dear.” Harold calls back. Finally, he settles to grab onto either side of a vertical slat in the wall beside them, hoping the momentum of snapping his arms back in place will be enough. His heart races as he takes a steadying breath.

“Harold, be careful!” Bubby calls.

“Do you want me to hurry, or be careful?” Harold jokes, just to ease his nerves a little.

“Stop fucking joking around!”

“Okay. Here I come!”

Harold takes a deep breath and allows his arms to sn p. He sails ac ss the pit with e se,

LOADING...

but once he was there, he began kicking his legs wildly to find purchase on the smooth metal. He felt Bubby’s hands wrapping around his wrist, but he was beginning to slip fast. His voice caught in his throat as he began to hear radio chatter much too close by.

“Fuck!” Gordon shouted as gunfire began to pepper the walls of the Citadel. “Pull him up, pull him up, I’ll—”

Gordon grunted in pain suddenly, the sound of metal colliding with metal reverberating slightly in the pit. He felt Bubby’s grip tighten as more commotion he couldn’t see was beginning to sound above him.

“Let go of the ledge and hold onto me, I’ll pull you up.” Bubby said.

Harold bit his lip, his instincts telling him to hold onto the ledge for dear life instead, but he did as Bubby asked. His weight shifted a little over the ledge as he held onto their wrists, and they began to pull him up.

“Bubby!” Darnold cried out.

Bubby grunted suddenly as something hit them in the back. Their grip on Harold’s hands slipped slightly, Harold instinctively kicking to try and find something to stand on.

“H-hold on!” Harold pleaded, their grip slipping further.

“Coomer!” Gordon called from somewhere else Harold couldn’t see. Harold wanted to look to his clone’s eyes, see what the hell was happening above, but his mind rushed with panic, making it impossible to see. All he had was Bubby’s hands, as Bubby seemed to be struggling with a great deal of pain.

“No, no, no, no—” Bubby groaned frantically as their grip slipped just a little further.

Harold held his breath, holding on with all the strength he possibly could, but it wasn’t proving to e no gh. H rold s ueezed h s eyes shut, p begi ing to r sh inside his ch .

LOADING...

Harold is currently being held back by a Combine soldier, watching as Bubby leans over the edge to hold onto the original Harold. It isn’t going to be enough, he _knows_ it. After getting tased, their muscles are weak, they don’t have a good grip on their husband. Harold feels his original self’s panic like a flood, threatening to crush him as he struggles to wrench free.

Whoa—a gunshot comes from nowhere, though, taking out the solider holding Harold back.

>...Where did that come from?

Harold leaps forward, reaching around Bubby—and not a moment too soon. Bubby’s grip is lost on their husband’s hands, but Harold catches him by the wrists tightly. He’s leaned precariously over the ledge, unable to pull himself back up, but Bubby recovers fast and wraps their arms around Harold’s waist to help him. Together, they pull the original Harold up to the relative safety of the ledge.

The soldiers that had come to meet them are all preoccupied, the Gordons and Darnold keeping them busy enough while the Harolds and Bubby get their weapons back in order. Harold pulls out his gun as his original launches forward to throw a punch at the one holding onto Darnold, and in a matter of moments, all the soldiers are taken out, and the group is safe again. Bubby throws their arms around the original.

“Oh my god, I thought you were going to fall.” Bubby chokes out against his shoulder.

“Thank you, you two.” The original says, hugging Bubby back tightly in one arm and squeezing Harold’s shoulder with the other.

 _I...didn’t quite expect you to put so much on the line to save me._ The original thinks.

 _Of course I would._ Harold thinks back, crossing his arms.

“Are you okay, Gordon?” Darnold asks. Gordon presses his hand to his stomach, where blood trickles from between panels in the HEV suit.

“Ghh—yeah, I’ll—I’ll be fine, as long as we can get to one of those medical stations.” Gordon replies, sweat beginning to bead up on his brow. “Fuck. I think I used up all that morphine in this suit. Worst timing, right?”

Gordon wheezes out a pained laugh.

“Oh, man. C’mon.” Darnold gets one of Gordon’s arms over his shoulders, s pporting hi side the Cit del prop .

LOADING...

>Tommy. Enough.

LOADING...

>You fucking tried to kill Gordon, AND Dr. Coomer!

LOADING...

>I told you to stop interfering. If I can't make you stop, then I will be forced to take them out of the picture.

LOADING...

I’m almost at my destination, now, as everyone else is making their way through the Citadel. It’s not pleasant, but they’re managing; Bubby’s been there before, they kind of know the drill on how to get around. They have each other’s backs. They’ve been through hell already, and they can make it to where they need to be now, if they just keep going. They’ll be okay.

Meanwhile, I’m somewhere G-Man can’t seem to reach if he tries to do anything with my perspective. That’s an unexpected bonus. It’s kind of hard to get around in here; it’s an old apartment building, but something really fucked up happened to it when it was enclosed in the thing suspended next to the Citadel. Gravity shifts strangely here, rooms repeat, time moves forwards and backwards at random. It sort of makes me nauseous, trying to get through.

I don’t even know for sure what’s in here. I just have a hunch, or an instinct, I guess. I don’t even think it’s supposed to _be_ here, according to my limited knowledge of Half Life 2, and any time anyone started talking about it with Alyx, something would happen and they’d get cut off. So G-Man must’ve been trying to divert our attention away from it for a reason, right?

She said she met someone in a suit, before or after coming into this place. So I’m gonna find out what’s in here.

>G-Man?

>Are you gonna try and stop me?

...

Oh. Maybe it’s a trap.

...I don’t really have any choice but to find out, anymore, though. I keep going, struggling with finding good paths with how the gravity is all disjointed. There’s people in here, too, actually. They look like ghosts, halfway transparent, trapped in time. I phase right through them when I try to interact with them, but I really don’t like walking right through people. It feels rude even though they don’t seem to be alive or conscious anymore, so I try to avoid it when I can.

It’s really hard not to get distracted, playing around with the way things sort of float in the air or gravity changes suddenly between rooms. Maybe at some point I’ll be able to come back and do that, but for now, I do my best to keep focused and keep moving. Checking in on Gordon and the others, they seem to be doing just fine in the Citadel, all things considered. The Combine’s forces have been weakened significantly, and my friends are all really good at fighting now, so they do okay. I tune back out for now. I hate tuning out, but if I tune in, it’ll be easier for G-Man to take control back, I think. So I just have to trust them.

...I feel really, _really_ bad. I didn’t intend to use them as a diversion at first. I wanted us all to come here together, but that ended up feeling too risky, with the way G-Man was trying to take control. It’s better to let things happen as they may when they go through the Citadel. It’s survivable, it literally _has_ to be survivable by design to go through on your own because this is all part of a game. Gordon Freeman could go through alone, and there’s _two_ Gordon Freemans, not to mention everyone else too. So my friends will survive together. It’s gonna be okay.

Eventually, I reach a break in the center of the apartment complex. It’s like, just a massive chunk taken directly out of the center of the complex, leaving this massive gap between the apartments and a giant sphere suspended in the center, gravity all fucked up so chunks of the apartment float around it like satellites. Looking at it, it sort of makes me think back to how Gordon was describing the layers of reality or whatever. A globe of sorts in the center, a layer outside of apartments, then everything else outside the Vault. I make my way upwards, towards a catwalk that leads to the sphere in the center.

I have no idea what to expect inside, but it looks like I’m gonna have to open it to see what it is—there’s glass, but there’s something red inside that blocks my view of it. It takes a little bit, but I finally manage to operate the controls to open it, and


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: black mesa in canon was actually canonically formed around the 1950's i believe, but for the sake of bubby being an old man and having grown up in black mesa, i'm saying it's been around longer than that in the hlvrai universe!

LOADING...

  
  


Man. This place is fucking _huge._ Why does it even need to be so fucking tall? Like, I don’t know much about OSHA regulations or anything like that, but this doesn’t seem like it would be allowed, if it weren’t for the aliens dictating the architecture or whatever. If one of us falls off of one of these ledges, we’d be fucking done for.

We should have, like, one of those baby chain ropes you see preschool or kindergarten kids on field trips with. That time I was helping Josh’s teacher chaperon all the kids on a walk and they had that rope, and Josh just kept whipping it up and down, so all the other kids started doing it too, that was—wait, if _we_ used one of those things and one of us fell, then we’d _all_ fall, right? Maybe that’s not a good idea. How do people doing like, mountain climbing or whatever do it? I’m sure it’s something about how the others have something to hold onto, but we really don’t have _anything_ to hold onto on these ledges.

I hope Benry’s okay, wherever he is. And I hope Tommy’s safe. I don’t really know what he had to go do, I feel like I’m barely keeping up, but obviously I trust he knows what needs to happen. I also hope all those clones are safe, and that Josh, Sunkist, and Barnaby are okay. I wonder how they’re holding up—that must’ve been so weird, to have spent like, 20 years in an alien dictatorship and suddenly your old high school/college friend’s friend you met once shows up with your friend’s son you babysit sometimes, who’s coincidentally also your son but only biologically, and tells you you need to watch over him. Something about a suppression field or whatever so nobody has kids, I hear—that’s _so_ fucking evil—Barnaby probably hadn’t even _seen_ a child ever since a while after that war, right? But this little toddler you knew 20 years ago is exactly the same. Also, you’re with a massive dog now—oh man, there’s probably no dogs anymore, either. Any dog that’s left would be like, super old. That’s awful. Barnaby’s getting a blast from the past right now.

Hey, actually, speaking of dogs, I’ve seen headcrabs and vortigaunts everywhere, but no peeper puppies. I’ve seen _barnacles,_ too, actually—ugh. I wonder what’s up with that, though, the peeper puppies were pretty cute as long as you stayed away from them. Those little chirping noises they made were kind of adorable.

Jesus. My head hurts. Why are my thoughts so loud? I get that when I’m trying to sleep sometimes or when I’m freaking out, but this feels different. It’s almost like when the player was there in that void—like my thoughts are _echoing,_ like I’m shouting them into someone else’s head and they’re bouncing right back at me. Fucked up.

Man, the way these walls squeeze in on us, I can’t help but remember when we were robbing the White House, how Tommy was in the walls— _I’m inside the walls, I’m scurrying around like a rat!_ God. That was like, awful because of how we all died, but also really funny in retrospect. Except...hmmm, we seem to have reached a dead end, aside from those weird coffin-looking things suspended from a track that keep passing by, except the head is exposed, so it’s some sort of like...prison restraint thing, maybe. There’s a catwalk below the track that we can access the coffin things from when they stop and open for some reason, before closing again and moving on, probably where they load these things up.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask Bubby. “You were in here before, right?”

“I don’t know what the fuck all this is.” Bubby replies and shrugs.

I press my fingers to my temples. “ _Man._ I’m really, like, getting a migraine. My head feels _so fucking loud._ ”

“Oh, dear, Gordon. Perhaps all that stress is catching up to you.” Dr. Coomer says while he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Maybe.” I mutter.

The other Gordon nudges past me, waiting for coffins to pass so he can get to the other side of the walkway. He stands there patiently, waiting for another set of coffins to stop, then he fucking _climbs into_ one of them, letting the door shut behind him?!

“Wh—dude, what the hell are you doing? You have no idea where those go!” I call after him.

He can’t reply, his arms are trapped down by his sides, but he really doesn’t look too concerned. I guess he’s onto something...?

“Hmmm. Well, we can’t very well let him go off on his own, can we?” Dr. Coomer says. “Come along, then, Gordon.”

Dr. Coomer climbs into the next one right behind the other Gordon, fully confidently. Once the door is shut, Bubby simply grabs onto the one Dr. Coomer is in and hangs on for dear life. They sorta look like a baby koala clinging to their mom.

“You can’t fucking _pay_ me to get into one of these things.” Bubby calls when they notice me watching them.

I put my hands up in defeat. “Hey, maybe that’s for the best.”

“Ohhhh, this is a really bad idea.” Darnold groans while he steps up next.

The Coomer clone doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic about it either, but he gets in one after Darnold, leaving just me. _Ugh._ I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I? I climb into the one behind the clone, and I’m on my way behind everyone else.

“Seriously, are you guys getting migraines? Maybe it’s something to do with the Citadel, right?” I call ahead of me.

I guess they can’t hear me, though. Dr. Coomer’s probably right, I guess it’s probably just stress.

Wow, there’s a lot going on here in the Citadel. Soldiers are walking around, and there’s some really sick looking people working on repairs I guess. Lots of really thick cables coming down from upper levels, more of those really big aliens walking along the floor below us, some weird pods that are getting shifted around between tracks nearby the one we’re on and the walls to either side of us—I guess I didn’t really know what I expected when I pictured eventually coming in here, but it wasn’t this.

I wonder how long this track is, when we’re gonna get deposited anywhere. I’m sort of imagining a situation where we’re about to get like, incinerated or something because that other Gordon was too impulsive. Then again, I guess impulsivity—is that a word?—tends to get us places. If you work off, like, your _gamer brain_ and don’t worry so much, things tend to be okay. Makes sense, since this is a video game universe. They wouldn’t just design this whole long track you can’t escape from just to kill you, like 2-5 minutes after some long ass tour of the Cita—oh my god!

Gordon’s coffin thing opened, and he just fucking _dropped!_ Everyone else starts wiggling in their coffins too, they’re getting just as nervous. Gordon’s empty coffin thing moves to another track to go back around, and Bubby and Dr. Coomer drop down together—I wonder why Bubby didn’t just float? Maybe they see it’s okay down there? Then Darnold goes, screaming the whole way down, then the clone, then it’s _my_ turn. Everyone else is in a room below me, seemingly okay. My coffin thing opens, and there’s no foothold at all to stand on, so I immediately fall. I expect to hit the ground hard, but I feel this lurch in my stomach before I reach the ground, and I’m set down easily instead as little glowing blue lights surround me. There’s these big weird glowy devices on all the walls except where the doorway is, which is blocked by one of those opaque-ish light barriers I’ve been running into all the way here.

“Okay, did you have a next step?” I ask the other Gordon sort of sarcastically. He just shrugs back at me.

“ _Security alert._ _Unregistered weapons detected. Confiscation field engaged._ ” That overwatch voice says into the room.

Those devices start to glow brighter, a low _hum_ filling the room. It’s like a magnet—all my weapons go flying off of me, but they just float there in front of me, and so do everyone else’s. I reach for my crowbar, at least, I _gotta_ have a crowbar, but one of the devices fucking shoots it with some sort of electric beam. I pull my hand back as the crowbar glows bright hot before just _disintegrating._

“No!” I shout. The other Gordon looks just as upset, mourning his own crowbar.

The only thing left after a few seconds is the gravity gun. It floats there in mid-air, currently getting hit by two different beams, then all four. The light inside changes, shifting to a bright blue rather than orange, before all the devices—including the door—blink off, and the gun drops to the floor.

“Dibs!” I shout, scooping up the gun off the floor. The other Gordon looks really disappointed.

“I don’t know, Gordon, what if that thing’s dangerous now?” Darnold asks anxiously.

“Hey, man, I’ll take what I can get.” I reply. “Just stay behind me, let’s see what this thing does.”

I start to walk through the doorway, and almost immediately, there’s Combine soldiers coming our way. I don’t have anything to shoot back with, the gravity gun doesn’t really work like that. Maybe I can use it to drag their guns out of their arms? I pull the grab trigger, and—whoa, the entire fucking soldier comes flying towards me, totally limp. That’s _never_ happened before. I just have him suspended in front of me, completely ragdolled, I’m pretty sure he’s dead. This thing is deadly as hell now! I launch the corpse towards other oncoming soldiers, doing the same to them if they try to get too close.

“Dude, this thing is sick!” I say once we’re safe again.

“That’s _terrifying._ ” Darnold comments.

To my side, there’s a bunch of screens that suddenly change to what seems to be a live video feed of Dr. Breen. He looks so fucking smug and judgmental—bastard.

“So, the two Dr. Freemans, here at last.” He says, looking between me and the other Gordon. “Along with their little entourage, of course. I wish I could say this was a pleasant surprise, but it’s neither a surprise, nor, as you would surely agree, very pleasant.”

The first screen immediately goes up in flames after that, the metal warping and melting as the screen cracks from the heat. Then, for good measure, Bubby launches themself at it and tears the monitor out of the wall, throwing it across the room.

“I never want to hear your _fucking voice_ again!” Bubby shouts at the other screen.

“Now, Bubby, you can’t very well walk into my office and be surprised to see me there, can you?” Dr. Breen replies coolly. “There really is no place in this enterprise for people like _you all._ I expected so much better. Dr. Freeman, Dr. Pepper, you two contributed so much to the scientific process during your tenure at Black Mesa, and Dr. Coomer? Your willingness to go further than anyone else in order to push the boundaries of our research was truly unparalleled. And, of course, _Bubby_ —the peak of Black Mesa research, the ultimate lifeform, all wasted on some pointless struggle against a brighter future for humanity.”

“Wow. You’re a dick.” Darnold comments flatly.

The Coomer clone steps forward to say something, but he’s stopped by Dr. Coomer himself putting a hand gently on his shoulder. He steps in front of him to stare at the screen intensely.

“Don’t try to tell me about my _willingness_ to contribute to the cloning project.” Dr. Coomer says through gritted teeth. “Your recruiters didn’t take no for an answer. They sought me out and manipulated me after my divorce, when they knew I was suffering most with my self-image! You encouraged an environment where employees tore each other down for _your_ gain! You cut corners by cloning me and using me, and you used Bubby and all their prototypes! You’ve never cared about _science,_ all you’ve ever cared about was what could put you on top! You could _never_ know or understand the pain you put us through. The cloning project traumatized me, and keeping Bubby locked away for decades of their life was cruel. It was _evil_.”

“Dr. Coomer, we were completely transparent about the sacrifices you would be making with the cloning project.” Dr. Breen points out, that just absolutely _infuriating_ tone cis men get sometimes when they’re clearly reveling in how much more “rational” they sound than you, just because they’re not angry about something that doesn’t even affect them. Oh, god, I wanna deck him so bad.

“That’s not the fucking point!” Bubby argues. “Harold was right. You did whatever you wanted to other people, so long as it gave you an advantage in some way. You fucking _saw_ how awful it was to live the way I did when you got your seat as the administrator, but you still turned a blind eye to everything just because it benefited you! You never had to _work_ for any of it, you just got all the horrible things the previous administrator did handed to you on a silver fucking platter and acted like it was your accomplishment!”

Dr. Breen actually looks put off by that as he opens his mouth to respond, but Bubby interrupts by tearing the second monitor out of the wall, throwing it full-force to the ground with a shatter that _really_ drills into my ears. They’re breathing hard, both hands balled up into fists with their teeth bared. The clone looks no better, approaching to get in a good stomp on the monitor before Bubby lights it up in flames. As Bubby watches it burn, the clone turns to Dr. Coomer, staring at him for a long few seconds before pulling him into a gentle, tentative hug.

“I’m sorry.” Dr. Coomer says. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“...I’m sorry.” The clone repeats.

They seem to be coming to some sort of understanding, I think. Something I’m not really privy to. There’s another monitor down the hall that the other Gordon approaches curiously, along with Darnold, as I stand nearby the Coomers and Bubby, waiting for when they’re ready to move on.

“You're wrong, Bubby. I made _sacrifices_ to get my position at Black Mesa, and I made sacrifices to get where I am today. We all have to make sacrifices for the betterment of _humanity_. Our research in Black Mesa didn’t just benefit me, it benefited everyone!” Dr. Breen goes on.

“How did this benefit everyone, then?” Gordon asks, an unimpressed expression on his face.

“Yeah, I think you just suck.” Darnold adds. “Literally no person left in this entire world is better off except _you._ ”

“I wouldn’t expect you all to understand the sacrifices I had to make.” Dr. Breen scoffs.

I’m getting really sick of this guy’s voice. I aim the gravity gun carefully at the monitor and rip it out out of the wall, Darnold and Gordon stepping back in surprise as it comes out, and I launch it somewhere else to fall down into the lower pits of the Citadel.

“We don’t owe this fucker any of our time.” I say to them before turning back to the Coomers and Bubby. “Hey. You guys alright?”

They nod, Dr. Coomer wiping his eyes briefly. “You’re right, Gordon. Let’s go.”

We all start heading forward. There’s more of those energy balls from generators that I get to use to attack soldiers, actually, increasing my range by a lot. Dr. Coomer and Bubby can help fight, too, so really, tearing through these soldiers is sort of a piece of cake? Not _nearly_ as terrifying or hard as I was expecting. Getting through fucking Ravenholm was worse. Still, though, I’ve been going for a _long_ fucking time. I look at the other Gordon.

“Hey, man. You wanna give this thing a try?” I ask him exhaustedly. “Gordon’s _real_ tired.”

He snorts a little as he accepts the gun. I guess my habit of using third person while there’s a second version of me right there is sorta funny, actually. He gives me a thumbs up before he takes the lead. Huh, he sort of seems like he already knows exactly what to do and where to go—I guess either it’s something weird and existential, or like, maybe he’s just a lot quicker on his feet than me. I’m not really that great at video games, to be honest. I know that’s my job and all now, with the whole Justin.TV thing, but puzzles and shit aren’t really my forte.

Dr. Breen shows up on more monitors as we go along, and Gordon rips the monitors out before Dr. Breen can even get two words in, launching them and shattering them against nearby walls or using them to take out soldiers. That’s for the best, I don’t think more arguing between Dr. Breen and everyone else is really gonna help us. They have every right to yell at him, but like, I don’t know—I’m just worried he’s really gonna get to them. They don’t deserve that. Maybe if we get the chance, I’ll _make_ him fucking listen to them so they can tell him all about the suffering he caused them. Then I’ll kill him for hurting them and doing _all this_ to the world probably. That sounds good.

Man. This place is so fucking massive. I feel like we’ve been going for forever, fighting soldiers and going further and further up. I sorta want to call for a break, like we used to do in Black Mesa, but I don’t know—maybe we should be getting to Eli as soon as possible. Darnold certainly hasn’t said anything about gut instincts like Tommy told him to watch for. Hell, the only gut feeling _I’ve_ got is that awful combination of nausea and hunger. I feel like I wanna go to McDonald’s, eat like, 3 boxes of chicken nuggets way too fast and immediately go throw it all up in a bag in my car.

Oh, hey, more of those weird coffin pod things. It doesn’t really look like there’s anywhere else we can go. Hey, it ended in a cool blue gravity gun last time we did this, right? I guess it’s fine. Gordon climbs right in again, and I follow behind him. At least it gives me a chance to stop walking and just chill for a minute, looking around at the horrors of the Citadel or whatever. _Man,_ I’m tired. I can’t wait to go home and just take the longest fucking nap. That post fight-for-your-life-and-now-you’re-finally-home sleep is absolutely decadent.

I wonder how Tommy’s doing. I haven’t had any Roadrunner-ish type near death experiences, so I guess he’s got control of everything just fine, probably, right? Right. It’s fi—

Ooohhh, that’s gonna be a problem. What is that, some kind of scanner? Oof, a camera’s snapping pictures of the other Gordon— _and_ he’s going on a different track? Uh oh. It does the same for me after my pod thing crosses over the red line, and I’m following after Gordon in a few seconds.

“This is bad, right?” I call to everyone else.

“It definitely doesn’t fucking seem good!” Bubby replies.

“Bubby, take the pods down or something, get us out!”

“I’m _trying!_ If—whoa!”

“Bubby? Coomer?” I yell, trying to turn my head to look at them, but I can’t see behind me. “Are you guys okay?”

“It’s probably for the best if we wait until we arrive to to try and escape the pods!” Dr. Coomer says urgently. “That would be quite a drop, if we fell.”

“Ohhh, no no no no no no, this seems really, really, _really_ bad.” Darnold groans behind them.

Our coffin things are starting to go _up,_ now. Oh, god. We might be about to die. I really wanna struggle against the pod thing, but if I fall, I’m _gone._ We go up for a really fucking long time until I finally see Gordon reach the end above me, the pod thing moving forward over the end of the tunnel. I reach the end, too, just in time to watch a soldier confiscate the gravity gun from Gordon. He starts _really_ struggling at that, the pod swinging as Judith comes into the room.

“Gordon...and Gordon.” She says, glancing between me and the other Gordon. “I almost didn’t believe it when I heard the Gordon from this reality arrived, too. I’m...sorry, you two.”

“Hey, _you_ fucking made me and Alyx disappear for a week!” I shout at her while I start struggling, too. “We almost had Eli out, and then I could’ve been with my friends a lot sooner, and probably have gotten home!”

“Don’t struggle.” Judith says, her tone a bit more gentle than I’d expected. “Until you’re where he wants you, there’s nothing you can do.”

Well, I can’t just _not_ struggle more, if that’s what she says. She fucking betrayed us! After all that trouble we went through to save Eli, she teleports him to the fucking Citadel?! Gordon has the same idea, as everyone else starts coming up behind us. Bubby— _Bubby’s_ not in the pod, they can—

Oh, yeah, there they go. Bubby leaps into my view, screaming as they wrench a gun from the nearest soldier and set him on fire. The gun doesn’t work in their hands, so they just throw it at the other soldier before setting him on fire.

“Guards!” Judith shouts, ducking behind a wall out of Bubby’s reach.

More soldiers pour in. Bubby makes a pretty good effort tearing into them for a minute, but more and more seem to be coming out of fucking nowhere _,_ and there’s no place for them to hide and evade their bullets.

“Bubby!” I shout, watching them collapse suddenly.

“ _No!_ ” The Coomers both scream.

“You bastards!” One of the Coomers barks as we start moving forward. The guards drag Bubby along, still fighting it, but definitely weaker, now.

“Bubby!” I shout again while I strain against the pod.

Past our worried screaming, I can start to hear Dr. Breen’s voice again as we move down a long hallway. What’s he saying? Something about universes? I really, _really_ don’t care to hear about anything so pretentious right now, I just want Bubby to be okay.

At the end of the hall, I can see a big room. I was in here once, actually, I remember—right at the beginning, when I was being teleported around by Kleiner’s teleporter. This is Dr. Breen’s office. He’s got Eli here, and is fully occupied monologuing at him. Eli’s starting to say something back but stops, looking at me and the other Gordon.

“Good god.” Eli says miserably.

“Well, if it isn’t the two Gordon Freemans, at—” Dr. Breen starts to say.

“Shut up!” I interrupt, watching as the soldiers just dump Bubby on the ground. They’re bleeding _really_ bad right now, oh fuck. “Let us the fuck go _right now!_ ”

“You know I’m not going to do that, Dr. Freeman.” Dr. Breen says with an aggravating chuckle. “Why, if I knew you were going to _deliver yourselves_ to my office, I wouldn’t have tried to hunt you all down!”

“Bubby!” Dr. Coomer cries desperately from his pod. “Bubby, answer me! Are you okay?”

Bubby groans, curling up on themself as one of the guards sets the gravity gun on Dr. Breen’s desk.

“At _least_ get them a medkit or something!” Darnold pleads. “They don’t have to die!”

Dr. Breen waves his hand dismissively. “Bubby’s survived worse. Haven’t you? Remember all those failed escape attempts?”

Bubby growls, clutching their stomach with one hand and beginning to drag themself across the floor with the other shakily—trying to get to the gravity gun on Dr. Breen’s desk. A guard stands in front of them, though, blocking their path.

“Now, between not just one, but _two_ Gordon Freemans and Eli Vance—that ensures I can dictate the terms of any bargain I care to make with the Combine!” Dr. Breen says with a gleeful laugh of disbelief.

“Go to hell!” I snap.

“Dr. Breen— _Wallace._ ” Judith says firmly by his side. “The bargain we _should_ be making is for Eli’s life, so he can continue his research!”

“Thanks to _you,_ we have everything we need in that regard.” Dr. Breen replies, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re more than qualified to finish his research yourself. What neither you nor I can do is convince that _rabble_ in the streets to give up their senseless struggle.”

Dr. Breen turns to Eli, now, earning a furious look from him. “Yet Eli refuses to speak the words that will save them all!” He accuses.

“ _Save_ them? For what?” Eli questions.

“Eli...if you won’t do the right thing for the good of _all_ people, maybe you’ll do it for _one_ of them.”

A panel to the side opens up, revealing Alyx, restrained in one of the pods, same as the rest of us. Gordon begins struggling again, Eli gasping her name as she’s taken up closer to us. I turn to Bubby again. I can still see them breathing, but they’ve gone much more still. Dr. Coomer is fighting desperately against his restraints, tears streaming down his face as his pod swings from his efforts.

“Goddamn you, Breen! Let her go!” Eli demands as Alyx looks crestfallen to see us.

I look around desperately. I mean, this has to be a scripted part of the game, right? I wonder. _I_ would clearly survive this—I’m Gordon Freeman, the player character—but _everyone else_ might not. I have to figure something out. I start straining harder against the pod. There has to be something I can do to break free.

“Dr. Breen!” The clone shouts furiously. “Bubby is _dying!_ Do something!!”

“Oh, I’ll help Bubby. And I’ll let Alyx and the rest of you go, if Eli agrees to call off this petty little revolution of his.” Dr. Breen says, clasping his hands together and looking to Eli. “What do you say? Will you finally decide to be reasonable, old friend?”

“Not a chance!” Eli replies.

Dr. Breen lets out a short, annoyed sigh. “Alright. Well, I suppose I have no use for any of you, then—except for Gordon Freeman, of course. The Combine, however, have been expecting the rest of you.”

“Bubby?” Dr. Coomer calls again. “Bubby, dear, _please,_ are you okay?”

Oh, fuck. They’re not responding.

“ _No!_ ” Dr. Coomer cries out as the pods begin to move. “Bubby—please, _please_ say something!”

Me and the other Gordon are kept together by Dr. Breen’s side while everyone else is lifted up. I grit my teeth, staring down at Bubby laying on the floor. This can’t be happening. Oh, god. Bubby might be dead, my friends are about to go through some fucked up Combine portal—I don’t know what to do. I’m so fucking scared for my friends. This is so bad, this is _really_ fucking bad.

Hey, wait. What?

Everything’s stopped. It’s not like those timestops Tommy does—it feels different. It’s like there’s this hum inside my bones as new people begin to appear in the room. Vortigaunts, actually. It sort of looks like someone just took a photo of what I’m seeing right now, put it in Photoshop, and slapped a transparent layer of them on top of it—they sort of just hover in place where they shouldn’t. One should really be intersecting with Dr. Breen’s desk or standing on it, but they just hover there weirdly, like physical space means absolutely nothing to them. And they’re sort of glowing purple-ish, too—it’s so weird and out of left field, I wonder for a second if I’m hallucinating from the stress.

“We cannot stand by and allow this to happen.” One of the vortigaunts says, stepping up close to me. “The Bubby is considered a dear friend to the vortigaunts.”

“I’m trying!” I protest, my voice breaking. “I’m fucking stuck, man! If you let me out, I’ll help them.”

“We have been watching the Free Man’s journey.” The vortigaunt goes on. “The fabrics of reality are woven incorrectly, here. But _you_ are at the center of it all. In a reality that may be wielded by those who occupy it, you are the one with the most power over all.”

“...What?”

“I could release the Free Man from his prison, yes. However, the Free Man may also free himself, should he recognize his power.”

“I—you mean like Tommy?” I ask, struggling a little again. “I don’t know how to do all that. I just assumed he could only take control because he’s like, half alien. Or full alien? I don’t know, I don’t wanna think about G-Man’s—”

“Yes, the Tommy certainly has learned how to wield this power for the benefit of his friends. However, we believe you are the one most approximating a being _truly_ befitting of the power to wield reality itself.”

“O-okay. How—how do I do that?”

The vortigaunt places a claw on my forehead. “The Free Man must close his eyes and focus. Feel the hum of the universe in his body. Let it consume him, and he will understand all.”

I close my eyes tightly. The migraine must be hitting some awful peak with all the stress. I feel like everything is buzzing around me, and then—

_Oh._

It’s a feeling I’ve felt before, but only once. I remember it pretty clearly. At Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s dinner, way back when I was still mad at Benry and sleep deprived to hell. I honestly almost forgot about it, mostly because I didn’t want to think of the implications—I’d gotten really pissed at Benry, probably over something stupid, and slammed my hands down on the table. It was like the table, the floor, and everything else around me just...unlocked. Stopped abiding by any law, except for what _I_ wanted. It clipped right through the floor, sticking out at a weird angle until I panicked and tried to get it back into place, then it just disappeared.

I open my eyes and clip right through the pod. “Whoa.” I look down at my hands, curling my fingers on my left hand in and out. Honestly, I don’t know, I don’t feel any sort of power coursing through me or anything cool like that, it’s just _weird._ Like...if your TV connection sucks and you get that little faint static over the picture, and you just get super used to it until you suddenly notice the static again? I feel like I’ve finally noticed that static.

I look back up. The other vortigaunts are picking up Bubby, sharing their weight between them. I hurry over to them, looking them over in the vortigaunts’ arms.

“Are they—...” I say, the words suddenly getting stuck in my throat. I can’t tell if they’re just extra still because of how time is frozen, or if...

“We owe the Bubby a great debt.” One of the vortigaunts says.

“They freed our brother from the clutches of the Citadel.” Another adds.

“We will return them to you and your friends, once we have healed them of their wounds.” The first one places a hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “Until then, the Free Man must focus on saving himself and his friends. We wish you the best of luck.”

I want to reach out to Bubby one last time, squeeze their hand or _something,_ but I blink, and everything’s changed. Time has resumed again, and the vortigaunts are gone.

“ _What?!_ ” Dr. Breen exclaims.

The soldiers immediately point their guns at me, but I move fast, getting to the gravity gun and taking them out.

“Bubby?!” The Coomers both gasp, looking to where they used to be on the floor—the only sign of them now being the massive puddle of blood they left behind.

“It’s okay!” I tell them, backing up towards Gordon as I take out a few more soldiers.

“What the hell are you all doing?! Stop him!” Dr. Breen demands as I’m just completely obliterating soldiers right in front of him.

I reach out to Gordon’s pod once I’m there and touch it, closing my eyes for a second and focusing on _it_ versus _him._ Suddenly, he falls through the pod, and I hand him the gravity gun. “ _Please_ go wild, man.” I tell him.

Gordon nods, making a pretty good dent in the amount of soldiers that are coming in. I release everyone else, and the instant the clone is free, he immediately launches himself at Dr. Breen. He tackles him to the ground, punching him hard in the face as Darnold hides from gunfire behind Dr. Breen’s desk.

“Gordon, where is Bubby?” Dr. Coomer asks me desperately.

“It’s okay, the vortigaunts froze time and took them. We just gotta get ourselves out, right now.” 

Judith has taken something out of her pocket, one of those little multitool things Alyx has I think—or it’s probably just hers, actually. She zaps a little console in front of Dr. Breen’s desk with it and starts fiddling with it, and the doors to the office slam shut, giving Gordon a respite from fighting the onslaught of soldiers.

“That should buy everyone some time.” She says, looking to Eli and Alyx.

Alyx is currently helping Eli sit somewhere slightly more comfortable, checking him over to be sure he’s alright. She looks up to the door, then Judith. “...Dr. Mossman...”

“Bro, I can’t believe you sold us out.” I say accusingly. “Bubby could’ve fucking _died_ because of you!”

“...I know. I’m sorry.” Judith replies, putting a hand to her chest. “I thought if I handed you over, I would be protecting Eli.”

I growl. “God. I’m too tired for all of this right now, I just—I wanna find Benry, grab Josh and Sunkist, and go home.”

The clone is currently still wailing on Dr. Breen, only stopping once he becomes exhausted. Dr. Breen looks like he’s been knocked out cold.

“What do we do, now?” The clone asks through harsh, exhausted breaths.

I stand over Dr. Breen. I wonder if I should kill him. I mean, not that I have the means _right now,_ but like...once Gordon’s done taking out all those soldiers, we’ve got the gravity gun. He seems like he’s too dangerous a man to keep alive. Plus, he just fucking sucks. Or, actually—I mean, I have that power over reality or whatever, right?

Everything’s still sort of...unlocked. I crouch down beside him and poke him. Can I just like, console command kill him or something? I don’t know how to do that. Trying to figure out the logistics of unconventionally killing a man is super weird, I kinda wish I just had a gun, actually—

There’s a sound outside. It’s _really_ fucking loud, like a low, slow-motion groan along with metal scraping. I step up to the window with the other Gordon, who’s finished taking out all the soldiers in the room. There’s...something down there. Something fucking _big._

“Dude.” I say, looking at Gordon. “What the fuck is that thing?”

Gordon lets out a deep sigh, burying his face in his hands for a moment before replying. “That’s the thing I just killed before coming here.”

It’s like...it looks like it’s supposed to be a baby, imagined by a horror artist who forgot what babies look like. It’s got that massive, disproportionate head and the stubby body, except its arms end in claws, _and_ it’s even got a third arm coming out of its stomach, sort of like the vortigaunts. I can see that thing connected to the Citadel from here too, it’s right behind the alien, and it looks like it’s _bleeding._ Red water or blood or something floods down from it, pooling into the city.

...

Where’s Tommy?


	52. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: when i imagined dr. breen's office for this i totally thought like, there was this really big window behind his desk overlooking city 17....he doesn't actually have that in canon but i'm just gonna say he does here lol

LOADING...

I step into the void. Deep red water floods behind me as I keep the doorway open, pooling around my feet endlessly across the void. G-Man tries to close the doorway behind me, but something about my proximity to the Vault stops him. Taking a deep breath, I try to force a timestop around him; time has stopped all around us, but he’s still moving, turning and disappearing into the void.

I follow after him, keeping the doorway close to me. I can’t shed my body like he can to disappear in the void, but that doesn’t matter. I can still try and get to him; the void is endless, technically, but he still has to be reachable, somehow.

“You will...not find, me, Tommy.” G-Man’s voice echoes around me. “If I were you, I would be, checking in...on your friends, right about now.”

My friends can handle themselves. It’ll be more dangerous for them if I let him go. He’s actively focusing on hiding from me, now, so I don’t think he can take control from me at least, that takes a pretty conscious effort. I keep searching for him through the void, a trail of red water following as the doorway keeps a constant distance behind me. He’s slippery like an oiled ferret, though, I can’t find him no matter how hard I try. I might need to take a different approach...

“What...other approach, is there?” G-Man questions. “You _really_ ought to, check on your friends. You have...no idea, what’s happening outside.”

It’s true, I don’t. I have no idea what’s going on right now, but the Vault is open, and I got this really intense gut feeling that I know what I’m supposed to do. I close my eyes tightly, trying really hard to pinpoint him when I hear something familiar.

Singing.

I open my eyes.

The sight in front of me gives me a rush of nostalgia. I see a short security guard right in front of me, in the middle of the void, staring right back at me.

“Benry!” I say with a relieved smile.

He looks confused, though. Not really abnormal for him, but more confused than normal, and sort of surprised that I’m talking to him. I don’t think he’s the Benry I’m looking for. Time is really fucked up in the void as it is, but now that I’m thinking about it, honestly, it sort of feels like there’s something making it especially fucked up. Maybe because the Vault is right behind me, and time is fucked up in there, so that’s bleeding through?

“...Benry.” He echoes back at me.

I furrow my brow as an idea starts to form in my head. I close my eyes immediately and swap.

****

Benry.

Benry.

Benry...

Benry...

  
  


Is that his name?

Benry holds his hands up a little, looking between them and the man stood in front of him. Tommy—he knows Tommy. Dr. Coolatta—except he doesn’t have a doctorate apparently, but he always seemed to like being called _Dr._ Coolatta. What’s Tommy doing in here? He wonders.

“Benry.” Tommy says, stepping forward and placing his hands on Benry’s shoulders. “I’m going to be back for you, someday. I _promise_ you I’ll be back. But for right now—right now, I need you to—I need you to remember how you got here.”

“...Here?” Benry asks, looking around.

Tommy nods. “Yeah, I—I need you to think back. Please.”

Benry furrows his brow, doing his best to remember. Think back. He’s been in the void...for...a while. Time doesn’t seem to matter here, anymore, but there _was_ a point where time mattered. He was just a regular security guard. He’d just gotten lucky enough to have day shifts, after spending so long on grave. Grave was good for a while because of how little he actually had to do, but on day shift, he actually had _expectations._ A blessing and a curse, simultaneously. Then he’d met Tommy—Tommy was cool. Tommy listened to him talk for forever about video games when nobody else was interested in hearing about it, and he would talk about some science shit or Beyblades. Benry understood neither of those, but it was nice, having that back-and-forth between interests. Kept a boring, monotonous job out in the middle of fuckoff nowhere interesting.

Then, he’d been in the Nihilanth lab one day when something completely wild happened. Two people and a massive dog appeared inside the enclosure. Everyone else had been highly adverse to opening the enclosure; it just hadn’t been done, ever since the Nihilanth was put in there. There was no telling what could happen if they opened the door and it somehow _escaped._ Benry hadn’t cared, though—he may not have cared that much about the dignity of his job or whatever, but at least he had _morals._ Those people inside wanted out. They didn’t ask to be put in there, and the scientists were just going to let them die?

Benry had gotten the scientists to open the door. The people and their dog were almost out when he was shoved inside by someone in a suit he’d never seen before.

>There!

I was—where was I at the time? I’d run back to my office in HR, that’s right. I’m there, I’m _there,_ in Black Mesa. I’m so much younger, I don’t even have Sunkist yet, I have no idea what the truth of our reality is yet.

I go down and perform the tests on the samples I accidentally stole first. I can’t stop myself—that’s something I guess I can’t pull away from, since that already happened, and it’d destroy the flashback otherwise. Then I go back to my dorm and stow the samples I’d stolen. I lay down and try to go to sleep—

I take a deep breath, and I stop time. That gives me the time I need to run back through Black Mesa, down to the Nihilanth’s lab. I don’t have access, yet, but that doesn’t matter. Time is stopped, so nobody stops me as I search for G-Man.

G-Man’s already left the lab, though. I begin searching for him. It’s easier to feel it out, now, at least; there’s a physical space for me to walk through, lines of logic, more gut feelings that eventually lead me to him.

When I find him, he’s not frozen in time like everyone else, but he’s just standing there in one of the halls, back turned to me and hands clasped behind his back.

“Very clever, Tommy. Very...clever.” G-Man says. “Utilizing the—same, tactic, I used on Gordon...? You truly are, learning from me.”

“I _have_ to—so we can survive. I never wanted this.” I say through gritted teeth.

I don’t have a gun, anymore, and I’m not in the void, so I can’t manifest one—but there’s a guard frozen mid-step nearby. I reach for his gun, and by the time I look back up, G-Man’s already aiming one at me. I bite my tongue, staying still.

“Do not...try to stop me.” G-Man says.

There’s a chance he won’t pull the trigger. He seems to be getting fed up with me trying to stop him, but still, he’s had so many opportunities to kill me. I swallow hard and point my gun back at him. His brow furrows as I call his bluff, and a doorway opens to his side.

“No!” I shout. I follow him through the doorway just in time, stepping through the void behind him into another part of Black Mesa. I aim my gun and shoot, but he just disappears.

I hear footsteps down the hall. I immediately turn on my heel to follow, aiming my gun in his direction and firing the minute I see him. It hits him in the back, but just like the first time I shot him, he doesn’t seem to care. He steps through another doorway. I follow him through, and we’re deposited in yet another area of Black Mesa.

“How...long...do you intend, to drag this out, Tommy?” G-Man asks me as he continues walking ahead of me.

I’m getting too angry to respond, verbally. I watch as he begins to open another doorway, and finally, I begin to worry about Darnold.

Darnold, standing in Dr. Breen’s office with the window shattered, looking out at the monster that’s been released into City 17.

G-Man steps through the doorways. I follow him through, and take a very, _very_ rare moment when he’s too surprised to realize what’s happening to grab onto him, wrenching both arms behind his back to hold both his wrists in one hand and hold the back of his head with the other. I’m _finally_ able to force a timestop on him.

I start to sweat as I hold onto him tight, looking around, trying to figure out what to do from here. We’re in the Citadel, now, right beside Darnold. It worked—I was able to change the location of the doorway G-Man was stepping through before he noticed. The timestop isn't fully imposed on him, though, I can still feel him trying to work against it, it’s more like a chokehold than anything else. The room is more empty than I expected, actually, I finally notice. Only Darnold is in the room, with blood soaking the floor and a bunch of soldier corpses. I risk losing hold on G-Man to release Darnold from the timestop. He looks between me and G-Man with wide eyes.

“Tommy!” He gasps. “What’s going on?”

“I have to—I have to go to the Vault again.” I say to him, voice straining.

“The Vault?”

I nod down in its general direction. “The thing—attached to the Citadel.”

Darnold frowns, looking back out towards the Vault. I look too, closer this time. There really _is_ a huge monster down there. That red water floods out from the Vault seemingly endlessly, pooling around the city while the alien casts it in a massive shadow.

“If you can hold onto time for a bit, I’m sure we could make it. If not, though...good luck getting past whatever the fuck _that_ thing is.” Darnold says.

I’m not sure I could focus on walking and holding the timestop at the same time. Plus, if I take him through portals through the void, he might be able to pull the same trick on me or break free. I don’t really know what to do. I’m so close, I’m _so_ fucking close, I just _know_ I have to put G-Man in the Vault, but how do I get him there?

“D-Darnold...” I say, my voice shaking, now. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you need me to hold onto him?” Darnold asks.

I shake my head. “No. That’s not—not gonna work.”

“Can we just...” Darnold pauses, averting his eyes. “Oh, this is gonna sound so harsh, I don’t know—”

“Just say it.”

Darnold mimes pointing a gun to G-Man’s head. “Y-y’know? Maybe that’s...just what needs to happen.”

I shake my head again. “No, I don’t think he can die. I’ve already shot him before.”

“Damn.” Darnold curses. “Umm—what if...uhhh...”

I groan, closing my eyes tightly as it gets harder to hold on. “He’s—he’s gonna break out.” I warn Darnold. “When he does, I don’t—I don’t know if I’ll be able to catch him again, I—this might...this might be it.”

“No! It’s okay, we can figure it out.” Darnold insists.

“I’m—...I’m gonna try taking him through a portal to the Vault.” I say, gritting my teeth. “I don’t know if it’s gonna work. It probably won’t. But I—I don’t have another option.”

I feel Darnold’s hand on my shoulder. I look up at him. He looks scared, worried—but something about it tells me he completely trusts me. I guess he _has_ to. There’s nothing else right now he can do, other than just believe that everything’s going to be okay. I have to believe in that, too.

I take a deep breath again. It takes almost the last of my energy to open another doorway and start dragging him in. Darnold helps me move him, making it a little easier. We’re about halfway through the void to the second doorway to the Vault when I feel the timestop drop around us.

G-Man begins to move, trying to wrench himself out of our grip. I expect him to do something, start another timestop or close the doorways, but I guess the proximity to the doorway to the Vault means he can’t do much more than he’s already done? Or...

Huh. There’s...something off in the distance, I can see. A really familiar, vague shape of a person.

“Tommy. _Stop it._ ” He growls as Darnold and I hold him roughly by each arm.

I don’t give him the dignity of a reply. Darnold helps me drag him through the doorway. Honestly, I could probably even do this bit myself, he’s not nearly as strong as me. But Darnold’s help is more emotional support than anything else, as we stand in front of the sphere in the Vault. The exterior of the sphere is open, allowing all that red water flowing from the inside sphere to flood out, but the weird distortions on time and space are still in place, which seem to dampen G-Man’s power significantly. But...not mine? Huh. We stand together in front of the sphere, Darnold and I looking inside in surprise.

It’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. And I’ve been to what I see on the inside before. The red water should’ve been a dead giveaway, honestly, but I was pretty preoccupied. This is the final boss’s chamber from the game, where we defeated Benry.

“Do— _not_ —put me in there.” G-Man insists. “You don’t know—what you’re doing.”

Again, I really don’t feel like replying. Darnold and I just toss him inside, and he crashes into the water, sinking like a bag of rocks. I take hold of the controls again, and I shut the sphere behind him.

I breathe out a deep, _deep_ sigh of relief.

“That should hold him.” I say to Darnold. “Now I just...I have to figure out how to get us all back home.”

“Tommy, that’s _fantastic,_ but there _is_ still the giant alien thing out there.” Darnold says, taking both of my hands in his own.

“Oh, yeah. Umm—well...hold on.” I close my eyes and start another timestop with ease. I breathe out and sit down on the catwalk cross-legged, as does Darnold. “I’ve been going non-stop for—for a little bit, I need...I need to regroup.”

Darnold nods. “Of course.”

“What _happened?_ ” I ask him. “I opened this thing, and I got this feeling that, um—that I had to get G-Man in here. So I immediately started chasing him down.”

“Well, we were all in the Citadel, and we found Eli and Alyx.” Darnold explains, leaning back into his palms. “We were just fighting Combine soldiers while Dr. Breen monologued at us about free will being fake or whatever, I don’t know. Then Breen caught us and took us up to his office, and...man. Things got pretty ugly for a minute there. But Gordon just like—so we were in these prison pods, right? Gordon just clipped right out, and clipped the rest of us out, too. And, Bubby...they...got shot. It looked really bad, but Gordon said it was okay, the vortigaunts took them...? Then we heard this—this _noise_ outside, and that thing was out there.”

“Where’s everyone else?” I ask him.

“Well, _I_ didn’t like the looks of that thing, so I hid behind a wall. Everyone else was looking at it, though, and it shot this big green light ball at ‘em, and they disappeared.” Darnold says, pausing right at the end of his sentence and furrowing his brow. “They’re not... _dead,_ are they? I just realized it sounds a _lot_ like they just got fucking incinerated right in front of me, but my brain really shut down, I guess.”

I close my eyes and look for them. “N-no, they’re okay. And...” I open my eyes, looking towards the end of the catwalk. “...Benry?”

“Huh? Did you find him?”

I push myself up to my feet, taking Darnold’s hands and helping him up as well. “Yeah, I think so. C’mon.”

I open another doorway, taking Darnold through to where I think Benry is.

We find him collapsed in a puddle of red water in the street, face-down. It looks a lot like when we first arrived in the end boss chamber, except he’s his normal size, and a lot less imposing. I release him from the timestop, kneeling down and shaking his shoulder. “...Benry?”

Benry jolts, sitting up and dragging himself away, looking at me with wide eyes. “T-Tommy!” He exclaims, but he doesn’t seem to be relieved. He looks up towards the giant alien just above us fearfully.

“It’s okay. Time’s stopped, for now.” I reassure him. “Were you... _inside_ the Vault? This whole time?”

Benry chokes out a few orbs of sweet voice. He’s terrified and confused.

“Hey, Tommy?” Darnold asks.

“Hmm?”

“...What’s with the skeletons?”

I finally look up from Benry. There’s at least 10 of them, some still pouring out from the Vault and others mid-scramble away from the alien. I furrow my brow, looking around at all of them.

“The skeletons were...Benry.” I mutter. “Dr. Coomer’s personalities split off into different bodies...”

I look back down to Benry. He’s in a full-fledged panic, looking up at the giant alien. He scrambles to pull his soaked hood over his head and closes it around his face.

“Let’s—let’s get everyone regrouped.” I say, putting a comforting hand on Benry’s shoulder. “Come on, Benry.”

“T-T-Tommy.” Benry says, shivering and gripping my hand tightly.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“I don’t—” Benry takes in a sharp breath, struggling to breathe correctly.

“Should I—do I need to calm you down?”

Benry nods, closing his eyes tightly.

I clear my throat and sing blue sweet voice at him. He calms down a little bit—not entirely, but enough to breathe easier. He takes a deep breath, his grip on my hand loosening. He chokes out some more sweet voice in return, showing appreciation.

“I...” Benry finally starts to say again. “I don’t have my powers, anymore.”


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: character death--it's Technically fine but there Is death

LOADING...

  
  


>Oh thank god. Tommy's okay. And Benry, too--mostly. I think _everyone's_ okay, actually, aside from what we already know about Bubby.

>So...huh. I guess I have narrative control now. I didn't even notice it before, I just thought it was a migraine. Was I just sort of spewing bullshit at the audience that whole time? Whoops. Sorry. Welcome to my twisted mind, am I right? Lol.

>I guess I wasn't too far off during that time after Ravenholm, right before Nova Prospekt when I started talking to the audience, except I was sorta having a mental breakdown during that time. So, uhhh...I don't know, welcome to my unconventional playthrough of Half Life 2! Any%, commentated, no deaths--hopefully.

Uhh—okay, so I’m standing in a different street in City 17. We all got separated, I don’t know where everyone else is. Umm...it’s smoky, really smoky after all the attacks, my lungs are sort of burning. The Combine doesn’t seem to want anything to fucking do with this, they’ve scattered off to regroup I guess, don’t really know what to do with this gigantic baby alien in the sky. And the alien is still like, talking, in its fucked up slowed-down voice.

Tommy steps through one of those doorway portals, staring at me with wide eyes. “Gordon, you—you have control, now?”

“I guess so.” I reply to him. “The vortigaunts told me I’m, like, at the center of everything? And it just sorta clicked into place, y’know?”

“...Center of everything?” Tommy echoes, tilting his head. “What—what did they mean? Is that because you’re...the player character?”

All I can do is shrug. “Yeah, I dunno.”

“Well—I’ve got Benry and Darnold.” Tommy replies, nodding to the door. “I’m gathering everyone up right now.”

I follow Tommy through the doorway into the void. There’s another doorway a couple feet ahead of it, leading us into a little room in a mostly still intact building. Time is frozen, Tommy’s the one doing it this time, but the vortigaunts gathered around a little table are still moving, along with one sat against one of the walls with a cane in their lap. I can see hints of Bubby on the table, as they hold their glowing claws only about an inch or two above their body.

“The Free Man has returned.” One of the vortigaunts says.

“How—...you guys should be frozen.” Tommy comments, furrowing his brow before waving his hands dismissively. “Never mind—is Bubby gonna be okay?”

Tommy and I stand over the table where the vortigaunts make space for us. They don’t look good, that’s for sure. I put my hand on their shoulder, biting my lip worriedly.

“The Bubby’s wounds are great. Surely, if they were human, they would be lost by now—they are resilient, and they currently fight hard for their life, but we fear it may not be enough on its own.” One of them tells us. “We need something invaluable if we are to preserve their life.”

“What? What do you need?” I ask urgently.

“We require a larval extract, in order to submerge the Bubby deep in the vortessence.” The one against the wall chimes in. They painstakingly pull themself up, supported by their cane, and slowly make their way over to me. “The larval extract, however, is...quite a distance away.”

“Oh, god.” Tommy chokes out, squeezing Bubby’s sleeve in his fists. “I—...this is my fault. Oh my god, I—I thought that—I thought you guys would be okay, I didn’t realize it was this—this _bad,_ oh my god...”

I put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and squeeze it. “It’s okay, they’re not dead yet. We’ll figure it out. Where do we get the larval extract?”

“There is a system of caverns near White Forest. It would take the Free Man much too long to get there, let alone to locate the extract.” The vortigaunt says. “However...”

“The Free Man’s control of reality may make all the difference.” Another one fills in.

I nod, trying to look confident, but man, I _really_ don’t know what I’m doing. “O-okay. Yeah. I can—yeah, I can figure it out.”

The vortigaunt with the cane puts a claw on my shoulder. “You must focus. You are to suffer great loss—or, very nearly, in a future untethered from your own.”

I close my eyes, trying to focus. I don’t know what any of that means, though. Are they talking about, like, _Gordon’s_ future? At the end of this game, or maybe in a different one, he nearly loses someone like this? That must be it, right? He’s like, with someone he cares about, they get hurt and nearly die, just like Bubby. But he goes into those caverns and gets that extract or whatever and saves them. That sounds like something that would happen.

Huh. There’s this...sort of _seam._ I don’t know how it makes any sense, but it’s not like, a seam in physical space. Like, between metal panels where they meet, it’s thin, but you can still see where one panel ends and another starts. It’s easy to cross over it when I think about it, it’s just barely noticeable. And then, I can sorta tell a little more what I’m looking for, for some reason. It’s this stuff that Gordon has to go really far to find, and it’s hell down there in the caverns, but he can make it. There’s a big alien thing in there he has to avoid, but eventually, he and a vortigaunt get it. It’s...blue. Glowing blue, and came out of like, some sort of hive. I have this image in my head of the vortigaunt pulling it out and looking at Gordon with it in their claw, and it’s so _bright._ There’s that static again as I look at it, and...if I look close enough...I can sort of just, like, _see_ it. See it more meaningfully than with my eyes. I know that sounds weird and pretentious as hell, but hey, I don’t make the rules here. Or maybe I do?

I flex my left hand a few times. I can sort of feel the edges of it, my fingers passing through where it _might_ be, if I was holding it. Then, my fingers stop, and I have some sort of weight in my hand. I look down and, wow, there it is!

“Holy shit!” I say, looking it over carefully. “Wow. I can just like, conjure shit? That’s wild.”

“Whoa.” Tommy says. “Not—not even I could...it had to be _reasonable._ Like, narratively.”

“The extract!” One of the vortigaunts says reverently. “Here, we will take it, and we will heal them. The Tommy would be a great help, to reach the Bubby’s husband.”

Tommy nods. “Yeah, that’s—that’s a good idea. I’ll go get Dr. Coomer.”

Tommy steps through one of those doorways hastily as I hand the extract to the closest vortigaunt. They look _really_ jazzed about it when I give it to them, despite the circumstances. While we wait for Tommy, I put my hand back on Bubby’s shoulder. They’re so still, it’s making me feel sort of sick. Soon, though, Tommy comes back with Dr. Coomer and the clone that’s been with us, who both immediately step up to the table to reach for Bubby. The clone takes their hand while the original puts his hands on their chest.

“They’re—they’re going to be okay, right?” Dr. Coomer asks.

“Yes—the Harold must join us, as we imbibe the extract.” The one holding the extract says, holding it so gingerly in their claws. “A human is needed. A human whose life may be woven with theirs. The Harold’s bond with the Bubby is unbreakable. Alas...the damage done to them is very nearly irreparable, unless the Harold is willing to give _much_ life force to his husband.”

The clone and Dr. Coomer immediately exchange a look before the clone looks back to the vortigaunt. “You mean...I’d be giving my life for Bubby’s?”

“Yes.”

The clone holds Bubby’s hand tightly in his own as he looks down at them. “Of course. Of course I’ll do it.”

“H-Harold, there’s other clones who would.” Dr. Coomer says, putting a hand on his clone’s shoulder. “You wanted to retain your independence, right? I understand. You didn’t get the chance to live a normal life on your own, and now you can with your own body. There’s other clones that don’t want that as much as you do.”

The clone looks up at Dr. Coomer sternly. “I _can_ live a normal life. With you, and all the others. We should learn to coexist together. I’m—...I’m sorry. I wanted you to understand my pain so badly, but...I didn’t realize how I’d pushed my own pain of the divorce onto you, just as much as you pushed the pain of Black Mesa onto me. And I thought I had to hold onto my anger in order to protect us, but I see now how badly holding onto that has hurt us. I’m sorry for pushing you away and lashing out at you for past mistakes we shared. I...want to move on from what happened in Black Mesa _with_ you.”

Dr. Coomer wraps the clone up in a tight hug. “I’m sorry. I never should have treated you like you weren’t as important as I was, and I never should have ignored the pain it caused us.”

The clone hugs him back. “...It’s okay. I understand why you did it. It was such a strange situation, and we’ve never been the best at handling such hurtful experiences. I’m...ready to go back to living the way we were, now. I think we _all_ ought to return to you.”

Dr. Coomer nods. “I think you’re right. I promise I’ll listen for you all more from now on.”

Dr. Coomer pulls away and steps back from the table to stand with me and Tommy. The vortigaunts and the clone close in, so we’re just watching from behind them all.

“The Harold makes a great sacrifice.” One of the vortigaunts says as the one holding the extract eats it. “Because of him, the Bubby will live on.”

The clone nods, taking Bubby’s hand in his own again. I take Dr. Coomer and Tommy’s hands, watching as the vortigaunts begin to glow purple, just like before. That hum comes back while they begin running their claws up and down over Bubby’s body. Ew—they’re like, making their skin transparent, I can see their muscles and stuff. Gross. The vortigaunts lift their body up suddenly, like they’re pulling on invisible strings tied to them, and the clone clutches his chest and groans. Dr. Coomer grunts a little as well, squeezing my hand a little tighter.

“Oh, god.” Tommy says through gritted teeth, immediately turning away to hide his face in my shoulder. “I can’t—I can’t—oh god. I can’t be here.”

“I-it’s okay, Tommy.” I reassure him. “You can wait outside.”

“But—but it’s my fault—I can’t...” Tommy makes a choked noise and stops talking, but shakes his head feverishly.

“Tommy. It’s okay.” I repeat. “It’s not your fault. You should really wait outside if you can’t handle this.”

Tommy nods slowly, then nods much faster, letting go of my hand to rush outside. To be honest, I feel like I’m not faring much better, but I take a deep breath and steady myself as Dr. Coomer squeezes my arm with both hands. It’s...weird. I know his clone will be okay, technically. He’s just returning to Dr. Coomer’s consciousness, but I’m still actively watching another version of my family give his life up for his husband’s. It’s sort of gruesome, watching it happen, I can’t help but close my eyes and just wait for it to be over. Soon, the hum goes away, and I hear a hard _thump_ on the ground. Dr. Coomer loosens his death grip on me, taking in a sharp breath. I look at him instead, not to the one surely on the floor now. He blinks a few times, shaking his head as if he’s trying to clear it. He looks...significantly more at ease now, actually, before he seems to remember where he is and rushes to the table. I follow him, trying very hard not to look at the body on the floor as I hear Bubby gasp for air.

Bubby groans, letting out several weak coughs as Dr. Coomer grasps their hands tightly. “Bubby! How are you feeling?”

“Shit.” Bubby replies quietly, voice raspy. “What—...happened?”

Tommy pokes his head into the room, running in and nudging past vortigaunts. I guess he’s non-verbal right now, he doesn’t say anything, but he grabs onto Bubby’s free hand and holds it close to his face as he dips his head down and lets out a choked sob.

“You fucking died for a minute, dude!” I can’t help but blurt out. “God. _Please_ don’t do that again.”

“Yeah, I’ll just— _ugh._ ” Bubby tries to say, but grunts and squeezes their eyes shut in pain. “I’ll just _not die._ Thanks for the advice, Gordon.”

I laugh, but it’s sort of mixed with a relieved sob. “You know what I mean, man, shut up.”

Bubby begins to push themself up, helped by Dr. Coomer, but lets out another pained grunt. “Are we...safe?”

Tommy nods.

“I think Tommy’s holding a timestop right now, so like, for now.” I fill in. “But...there’s still that big alien out there.”

“Big alien?” Bubby groans. “Can we catch a fucking break?”

“We’ll take care of it.” Dr. Coomer says. “Just stay here. It’s better if you stay behind and recover.”

“Pshh. Sure, you couldn’t fucking _pay_ me to get back into another fight.” Bubby scoffs weakly. “Where’s everyone else?”

I look to Tommy, who looks right back at me desperately. Okay, so he’s still non-verbal. I close my eyes instead, trying to figure out where the others are. I assume Benry and Darnold are where Tommy left them, right? ...Yeah, I can sort of feel them there. Benry is curled up in Darnold’s arms, still recovering from what he’s been through, which I’m still not entirely sure of. Alyx, Eli, and Judith all got teleported somewhere else, but they’re safe too, looks like. And the other clones are still safe. Pontiff and Harold are huddled in a different building together, coping with everything they’ve just been through and what they’ve seen through Dr. Coomer’s eyes—same as the other two clones, still with Dr. Kleiner. And...wow. I can see Joshua now. He’s safe—I guess Barnaby’s in some far-off mining town these days, and it’s not just Barnaby and Sunkist looking after him, but a couple other people in the town, too. Everyone there is baffled and amazed that there’s a toddler there, now, and they’re completely dedicated to keeping him safe and comfortable. He’s with Sunkist and Barnaby right now, though, playing in Barnaby’s front yard. Thank fucking god he’s okay.

“Darnold and Benry are out on the street right now, but safe, as long as the timestop holds.” I reply.

“What about the other Harold?” Bubby asks, looking around. “Where is he?”

Dr. Coomer squeezes Bubby’s hand as the vortigaunts begin to file out to give us privacy, only the one with the cane lingering behind.

“The Harold has given a great deal for your life.” The vortigaunt says.

“Oh—shit, hi.” Bubby says. “Good to see you’re walking now.”

“Yes, thanks to you. Had it not been for your intervention, I would still be trapped in the Citadel.” The vortigaunt says, placing a claw on their shoulder. “I had to do what I could to return the favor. I told my brothers of your heroism, and when the Bubby needed help most, they agreed it was vital to see you resurrected. With the Harold’s sacrifice, of course.”

“Sacrifice?” Bubby echoes, looking up at Harold.

“Yes, Bubby...he gave up his body for your life.” Dr. Coomer replies gently.

Bubby’s shoulders go a little slack, looking at Dr. Coomer with wide eyes. “Oh. He’s—he’s still with you, though, right?”

Dr. Coomer nods. “Yes. It’s perfectly fine. He agreed that it was best he returned to me. And he—...I...was happy to give up my body for you.”

Bubby looks away, clearly not sure how to feel about that. They just weakly reach for Dr. Coomer and pull him into a hug. “Thank you so much.” They murmur.

“Of course, Bubby. It was the only choice I could have made.” Dr. Coomer says as he hugs Bubby, careful with his arms around their weak body.

After a long moment, Dr. Coomer lets Bubby pull away so they can look to the vortigaunt. “And...thank you. For telling your brothers I was worth saving, I guess.”

“Of course.” The vortigaunt says with a smile. “I told you, the Bubby’s actions would not go unappreciated. Now, I must go rejoin my brothers—with the horrifying return of the very being that enslaved us for so long, we are doing our best to get those in the city to safety. I have much to do. I assume, of course, the Free Man and his friends are prepared to assist us, considering their past experience.”

I nod. “Yeah, man, I guess we don’t really have a choice.”

“Oh, right. Big alien.” Bubby grumbles. “Good luck out there.”

“You as well.” The vortigaunt replies as they begin slowly making their way out of the room.

Tommy grunts a little, squeezing the edge of the table with his eyes closed. I reach over the table to touch his shoulder. “Hey, man. You okay?”

Tommy nods, opening his mouth, then closing it. He grips my wrist, giving me a meaningful look. I don’t really know what the look _means,_ though. Can I, like...get in his head to see? That seems wildly unethical, but...I don’t think we really have time to think about that right now. Uhh, let’s see here, how do I d

****

Tommy stares at Gordon closely, desperately hoping he’ll understand what he needs. He’s running out of stamina to hold the timestop after fighting tooth and nail against G-Man, especially after the stress of what happened with Bubby and Dr. Coomer. They’re going to have to go back out and face the alien sooner than later. Like, _now_ kind of soon. Unless...Gordon can just pluck them out of this world, and take them back home.

****

“Whoa.” I breathe, putting a hand to my head. “That feels super weird.”

Tommy nods.

“Yeah—umm—let me think.” I mutter, putting my hand to my chin thoughtfully. I’m kind of frustrated with the glove on my hand, it usually feels good to stim with my beard while I think, but the glove gets in the way of that. “Let’s—let’s get everyone else here, before you run out of energy. Can you do that, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, opening a doorway behind him and returning shortly after with the Coomer clones, then a bunch of skeletons? Then Darnold and Benry. Benry’s clinging tightly to Tommy, looking like he was just dunked head to toe in Koolaid. He doesn’t even acknowledge anyone else, just focusing on breathing steadily.

“Benry!” I can’t help but say with a big, relieved smile.

Man, it was one thing to sort of know he was okay, but it’s another to _see_ him here after so long. I’m about to reach out to hug him, but he lets out a sharp yell suddenly, clutching his chest as he seems to...jitter. Like—some sort of weird frame lag effect, and his voice cuts out like he has a bad connection on a voice chat. The same happens to all the skeletons, actually—huh, yeah, I guess they’re all Benry? Like how Dr. Coomer has all those clones? Weird.

“Whoa, dude, you alright?” I ask him.

“He’s been doing it a lot. It just seems to be getting worse.” Darnold replies with a deep frown.

I’m about to say something else, but Tommy grunts quietly, making a motion with his hand that I’m pretty sure is meant to say he wants us to get on with it.

“Fuck. Yeah, we don’t really have time right now, it’ll be better if we can figure out Benry’s problem when we’re safe at home, right?” I say uncertainly.

Tommy nods.

>Okay, here we go. I'm not sure how to...change our location. Ummm...what if I

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


LOADING...

  
  
  


Half Life

o shit1

>fuck

Garry's Mod

Half Life: Blue Shift

Half Life: Opposing Force

hl decay

Half Life 2

Half Life 2: Episode 1

Half Life 2: Episode 2

Half Life: Alyx

Payday 2

  
  


Would you like to load "fuck"?

>Yes

No

  
  


LOADING...

  
  


Unable to load "fuck" due to a mod currently creating errors, idkwhatthisisbutbenrydoesntworkwithoutit.rai. (Error code: 0457) Would you like to remove the mod?

Yes

>No

  
  


Continue?

>Yes

No

  
  


LOADING...

I press my fingers to my temples, shaking the strangeness of all that out of my head before looking back up at everyone else. “Um. So...it looks like we can’t go anywhere because of a ‘mod creating errors’. One that Benry apparently can’t function without. I can technically remove it, I think, but—”

Benry looks up at me with wide eyes, gripping Tommy’s shirt in his fists as he shakes his head feverishly. “No, no, no, man, don’t do it, don’t do that, _please_ don’t do that.”

“Of course not!” I say reassuringly. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna delete anything that’ll break you.”

“Umm—what type of file was it?” Tommy asks, his voice strained a little bit.

I shrug. “I don’t know, it was a...‘dot-rai’? The file title was something like, ‘I don’t know what this is but Benry can’t work without it’.”

Tommy nods. “Oh—yeah. Umm, you might not be able to—like, you probably can’t even delete it if you tried. I tried...I tried to delete G-Man, and it didn’t work.”

“Whoa.” Bubby says.

“I didn’t—it’s not like I had a choice but to try!” Tommy says defensively.

“No, no, I get it.” Bubby replies, putting their hands up in mock defeat.

“Benry, do you have any idea what that could be?” I ask him.

Benry shivers violently, closing his eyes tight. “I-I’m—I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“What?”

Benry doesn’t reply. He just buries his face in Tommy’s chest, muttering something I can’t hear. Darnold puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think he’s, umm, really in a good state to be talking right now.” Darnold says gently.

I put my hand to his upper arm. Man. I don’t know _what_ he’s been through, but I’ve never seen him like this before. It...sucks to see, actually. I’m glad he’s alive, I’m _really_ fucking relieved about that—if we weren’t so preoccupied, I’d really wanna sit him down and just try to help him relax. He’s done the same for me, before all this. He looks up at me with deep bags under his eyes before moving from Tommy to hug me close, instead. I hug him back uncertainly. Maybe I should do with him what I did with Tommy?

“Hey, Benry.” I say to him quietly. “Is it okay if I, like—ummm, get in your head for a second? The way the player used to?”

Benry nods.

“Okay. Cool.” I reply, closing my eyes and focusing.

****

Benry can barely remember a time when he felt more terrified in his life.

He’s safer now, at least, he can recognize as he moves to hold onto Gordon. Gordon holds him in his arms, a firm, reassuring weight around him that finally helps his muscles relax just a little more. The red water that might be blood soaked through his clothes completely, leaving him shivering and miserable as he does his best to breathe evenly. He feels _wrong,_ wrong in a way he can’t fully comprehend; he’s incomplete, and he gets the mortifying feeling that it’s killing him. Rotting him away. Corrupting him, until there won’t be anything left.

“Can you think back to what happened, since we got here?” Gordon asks him. His voice is so soft, so sympathetic. Not at all like when they were in the game.

So Benry thinks back.

He hadn’t been sure what exactly happened, when he went from the void in front of Gordon—the player-Gordon, not Gordon Freeman-Gordon—to the chamber he’d fought his friends in. It wasn’t the sudden change that was scary to him; he was used to sudden shifts in location, either vague or no memory of how he got there or what he was doing leading up to that point. That was his whole life. In Gordon’s house one minute, at Dr. Coomer and Bubby’s house the next, in the Gamestop the next and then at Tommy and Darnold’s. Over and over, he changed location, mid-sentence, mid-action. He was used to it. He made it work, and his friends tended to be pretty helpful after a while when they learned to recognize his patterns. Even Gordon, once he seemed to finally see it wasn’t some sort of elaborate prank being pulled on him.

The location change was fine. Even the location itself was fine. The _alien_ would be fine, too, if he had a way to fight it.

Benry never really took things very seriously in Black Mesa. He’d known it was a game from the very moment he opened his eyes, and video game deaths are basically meaningless. He’d die, he’d respawn as either himself or a skeleton, he’d die again, rinse and repeat. Whatever. Plus, he had the power of the Nihilanth, the final boss. Something fucked up had happened, merging him with the Nihilanth—fine by him—but now, the Nihilanth was _out._ As were a bunch of skeletons, who had scattered around the chamber in terror.

Benry had watched them run uselessly, unsure what to do. He had no powers, so he couldn’t fight the Nihilanth; it would probably be okay though, still, right? The player-Gordon wouldn’t just let them die, surely. He watched as the Nihilanth powered up an attack, launching it at a cluster of skeletons. Most of them got away, except for one—Benry watched with wide eyes as one of those electricity balls slammed into it. Benry felt an explosion of pain through his body, his head growing fuzzy as he watched through squinted eyes, waiting for something to happen with the skeleton. Its body disappearing and respawning, it getting back up, whatever; he didn’t see any movement, though, and he finally realized with an unfamiliar rush of horror that the skeleton was dead. Just straight up, no debate, and probably no hope of respawning— _dead_ dead.

So was the player, wasn’t he? Benry finally recalled. G-Man had appeared out of nowhere behind him, gun drawn before Benry could say anything, and pulled the trigger. If Benry got hit and killed now...

Benry scrambled to his feet, ducking behind one of the tall, sharp rock formations to hide himself from the Nihilanth. A few skeletons had the same idea, throwing themselves in his hiding spot. One of them peered out from behind the rock.

“What the fuck?!” The skeleton demanded.

“Where are we?” Another one asked.

The skeletons around him began with a barrage of questions Benry couldn’t answer. Benry pressed his palms to his ears, trying to drown out the skeletons and the Nihilanth’s deep, slowed down speech as it tried to attack them. The Nihilanth couldn’t really move around the chamber, and Benry had cover, so he was pretty sure he’d be safe. One skeleton seemed to decide to be brave, though, or maybe he was just so confused, he didn’t recognize the danger. He stepped out from behind the rock.

“Y-yo, come back.” Benry said to him, holding his hand out.

The skeleton looked back at him. “Huh?”

Benry saw the shifting of shadows around him as another ball of electricity traveled towards the skeleton. It hit him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the pool of red. The electricity ball burst into zaps that danced over the water for a moment as that familiar fuzzy feeling in Benry’s head returned with a vengeance. Benry clutched at his hoodie, wrenching his eyes shut as the Nihilanth unleashed more attacks on the rock he was hiding behind.

After enough hits from electric balls, the rock crumbled behind him. He had to run to another rock, knowing this one would break as well. Knowing he’d run out of places to hide, and the Nihilanth would kill him, just like it was killing skeletons that didn’t run fast enough.

Benry didn’t know how long he spent like that. Running, trying desperately to hide, trying to drown out the sounds of himself and the Nihilanth all around him, but it was a long fucking time. He _knew,_ without a shadow of a doubt, he was going to die eventually, but he was too terrified to just lay down and let it happen. His body acted of its own accord, continuing to run, circling around the Nihilanth over and over, until his body just absolutely could not take it anymore.

He’d collapsed, then, and immediately, the water beneath him began to move, dragging him out of the Nihilanth’s chamber.

He had hoped that would be the end of it, but the Nihilanth followed him, instead attacking some city Benry had never seen before. It wasn’t just the Nihilanth, but other massive aliens, some that flew and others that looked like three-legged spiders. Benry is completely defenseless, in a world where he is fully capable of dying.

He hadn’t really thought about death too much, in the game and up until this point. He sort of remembers now, though, being absolutely certain he was dead for a long time. In a pitch-black void for _so long._ He went through stages of grief over it for a while, before just settling into not _being_ anymore. No stimulation, nothing to do, nobody to be, and he just...broke. His entire existence just snapped, allowing something else that desperately needed a body to slip right in. That was fine, though, honestly, by the time Tommy pulled him out. The Nihilanth and him actually coexisted pretty seamlessly, and he got cool powers out of it, so there was no reason to fuss over _that._

The death thing, though, is a lot to remember and take in. Going from a state where he was sure he was dead, to knowing he couldn’t die at all, to a world where he absolutely _could_ actually die and had to spend some horrible amount of time running for his life is too much for him right now. What happens if he dies? He wonders. What would be worse? Returning to that void _forever,_ alone? Or just...not existing anymore? At all?

Benry hugs Gordon a little tighter.

“...Man. That’s fucked up.” Gordon says to him, putting a hand to the back of Benry’s head.

“I’m so sorry.” Benry chokes out. “I’m s-so sorry, about—about the fight in the game. Is that how _you_ felt when I attacked you? I-I-I didn’t realize h-how—how...fucking bad that was, I didn’t—I didn’t think it _mattered._ ”

“Hey, man. It’s gonna be fine.” Gordon says so, _so_ gently. “That was complicated. I get it. It sucked, but we’ve got so much more to worry about right now. It’s okay.”

Benry looks up at him, freeing one hand to wipe at his eyes. He looks like he’s been through a lot, but no amount of blood, sweat, or tears could detract from the way it makes Benry feel when he looks at him with genuine kindness. Gordon averts his eyes, suddenly, brushing at his hair as his face goes slightly red.

“Um...so...a-about Dr. Coomer...” Gordon says, looking down. Benry follows his gaze, heart practically stopping at the sight of Harold completely still on the floor.

“Oh shit.” Benry breathes out, immediately releasing Gordon and dropping to his knees beside him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Dr. Coomer’s right here.” Gordon says, kneeling down beside Benry and nodding up to Harold—the one still standing, right by Bubby’s side, is wearing part of his wedding suit underneath a lab coat. The one on the floor is dressed up in some sort of blue uniform. “This is just one of his clones. He’s still okay.”

Bubby leans over the table a little, biting his lip as he looks at the body.

“What happened?” Benry asks, gently putting his hands on the dead Harold’s shoulder.

“...He gave his life for mine.” Bubby replies, looking away.

Harold kneels down beside Benry as well, putting one hand on his back and the other on the chest of his clone’s body. “Yes, Benry, I’m perfectly fine. I’m still here. I’ve _always_ been here—as a separate identity from the Harold you’ve come to know best. I...understand everything a little better, now. What we were talking about before the wedding.”

Benry nods slowly. “Yeah. The...I’ve got...skeletons.”

Harold looks up at the skeletons in the room. “You certainly do.”

“Should we, um...I mean, I know you’re still _here,_ but I feel bad just leaving your body here.” Gordon says, looking pointedly at Harold. “Do you...want us to bury you?”

“...I don’t believe we have time for that.” Harold replies. “I have no issue with just leaving my body behind like this.”

“I fucking do.” Bubby grunts, carefully moving to stand. Harold quickly stands up, helping Bubby off the table and supporting him. “At _least,_ like...I-I don’t know. This is a lot to take in immediately after I fucking died for a few minutes.”

“...Here.” Harold says, helping Bubby lean against the table so he can kneel down and pick up the body.

Benry looks away, stomach churning at how limp he is. He hears Harold move to the other side of the room and shuffling, so Benry looks back up curiously, watching him lay down the body carefully and position his arms over his chest the way they always do for funerals in movies. He shrugs off his lab coat and drapes it over the top half of the body the best he can. Bubby starts moving towards the body as well, nearly falling as soon as he leaves the support of the table. Gordon stands up and helps him over so he can kneel beside Harold. Benry moves in to sit with them as well, quickly followed by Tommy and Darnold.

“Thank you, Harold.” Bubby says, leaning against Harold.

Harold carefully pulls him into a hug. “I’m just happy you’re alive. That’s all I could ask for.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Tommy says, voice strained. “I...I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off you all. All of this probably could have been—it couldn’t—it didn’t have to happen, I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

“It’s okay, Tommy.” Harold replies, peering around Benry to look at him. “Did you accomplish what you needed to?”

Tommy nods, closing his eyes and grunting a little. “Yeah. I—G-Man’s, umm, he’s in the Vault, now. So whatever we have to do...at least we’re safe from him.”

“That’s good. One less thing to worry about.” Bubby says weakly.

“We should hurry, though.” Tommy says, sweat clearly beading up on his brow. “I can’t—”

Tommy suddenly lets out a sharp breath, and the pressure of a timestop releases. Benry tenses as he hears the Nihilanth outside, followed by massive explosions. He feels a _zap_ again, coursing through his whole body and ending in an explosion of pain and dizziness in his head.

“ _Fuck._ ” Benry grunts through gritted teeth.

“What are we going to do?” Harold asks.

Benry looks to Gordon as he gently places his hand over the covered body of Harold for a long moment before standing. He hasn’t gotten _too_ much better at reading people, but he knows this expression on Gordon’s face. He makes it while he’s really focused on a big fight in a game, after so many attempts, and he’s just getting closer and closer to beating it. Or when he’s really pumped up while jogging, that happens too, whenever Benry caught sight of that. Except there’s a different energy around him this time, as he looks out the doorway towards the city.

“I guess...we have to fight it.” Gordon replies, brushing his hair out of his face. “Right?”

A silence hangs over them for a minute.

“Do you _have_ to?” Bubby asks. “Can’t we camp out somewhere safe, until we figure out how to get ourselves back home?”

“I mean, it’s not just _us_ we have to consider, is it?” Gordon points out. “All these other people feel so...like, _real,_ comparatively speaking. They’ve been putting their lives on the line for this whole revolution, and the Nihilanth could kill all of them.”

“Wait—the _Nihilanth?_ ” Tommy questions, putting a hand to his mouth.

Gordon nods. “Yeah, apparently.”

“Wh—but—huh.” Tommy furrows his brow, leaning his face into his palm as he starts to think. “So—all those skeletons were Benry. Dr. Coomer’s personalities split off—and the skeletons split off from Benry, into separate bodies. And—and the _Nihilanth..._ ”

“The Nihilanth was part of Benry.” Gordon fills in. “It like, merged with him while he was in that void.”

Benry can practically see the cogs turning in Tommy’s head. “So—...is it...a good idea to fight it?”

Tommy looks pointedly at Benry, like he’s asking permission. Benry just nods.

“It’s not gonna stop.” Benry says.

“How do we even kill that thing?” Darnold asks.

Gordon takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Well...it’s the final boss of Half Life, I guess.” He opens his eyes, looking down closely at his right hand. Benry hardly processes what he sees for a second—it’s just his normal hand one second, then the next, he blinks and it’s that gun arm he grew in Darnold’s lab. Gordon looks back out the door with that determined look again. “I guess we’ll just have to fuck around and see what happens.”


	54. Nihilanth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! this update is going to be Particularly long, sorry! honestly this one could absolutely stand on its own as a single-chapter update but it would mess with the flow, so. pls enjoy a very long update
> 
> ALSO! if you're reading on mobile, GO HERE **(in a browser, not in the tumblr app!!!)** to read it on tumblr instead please: <https://thezeekrecord.tumblr.com/gagegn-ch54m> if u have any issues reading it pls let me know!!!
> 
> this is important because there's some formatting in here that doesn't work very well on ao3 mobile. also don't look too closely at the blog it's not done yet lol

>Well. We're in final boss territory now, everyone.

>... 

>I don't know how I feel about this. It's...scary. I guess. Knowing I can die permanently, that my friends could die permanently, that there's a possibility I might not figure out how to take us all back home. It's also, like...I don't know. I guess I'm not as terrified as I should be. I've been getting that a lot--where I feel like I'm just physically not capable of taking these threats seriously. I went from a game, taking everything way too seriously, to something approximating "real life" threats and now, I have no idea HOW to take it seriously. The brain is super weird like that. You drop a bowl of cereal all over the floor trying to get your son to school one morning, and it feels like your life is OVER, but then you end up in literal life or death situations and you just feel like...whatever, you know? Must be something about my brain protecting me or whatever. Something to file away for later if I can, I guess. 

>We took all the skeletons and the clones somewhere safe--the clones are too anxious to fight that thing, which is fine. The skeletons are all just chronically confused, and would probably just hurt themselves. Bubby sort of follows along with us insistently--they're not gonna fight, but they wanna be here with us, anyway. They sort of put up a front about it, but they're--well, I guess you all know them pretty well at this point, right? They're so much more transparent about their emotions than they seem to think they are. Or maybe they know exactly what they're doing, and they're just too used to expressing themself this way. Which is fine, since we all get the picture pretty well. 

>...What does it feel like, being a spectator for this? You can't answer that, I know. But is this something you've all been waiting for? To see us fight the big boss we avoided at first? I guess I'm not upset or mad about that. I get it. It would feel weird as hell if the characters from my favorite movie suddenly turned around in the screen and told me to mind my own business, lol. It's not BAD--we've known we're not real for a while. I guess the spectator thing adds a different level to it, knowing exactly what makes us not strictly "real", but I mean...you know, I guess to me, what's it matter, you know? We've come so far. We've gotten to live a life. We get to EXIST, even if it's not in some way that's arbitrarily determined not to be "real". What IS real, anyway? 

>I guess I'm rambling. It's hard not to like this, it's sort of cathartic. Yelling my thoughts out into a void for some random faceless people to hear. Is this the appeal behind social media? Should I get a Myspace account? 

>Anyways. Yeah, final boss time. Let's go._

“Tommy, do you have any steam left in you?” I ask Tommy while I get Dr. Coomer’s help redoing my ponytail—I stupidly pulled it out to do it myself, forgetting I changed my arm into a gun. At least Tommy looks like he’s sort of recovering.

Tommy nods slightly. “Yeah. I can’t—I can’t hold, umm, a timestop for very long if—if that’s what you need, but I could do some other things, probably.”

“Do you think you could go get the other Gordon?” I suggest hopefully. “He knows the drill with this thing, he already fought it once.”

Tommy makes a non-committal hand gesture. “You’ll, umm—if you can see him, you’ll have to come with me. I don’t know where he is.”

I close my eyes, searching for him. I think he’s nearby, just a few streets over, in the middle of gathering up some explosives from a Combine supply. Smart. “Yeah, okay.”

Tommy takes my forearm and opens a doorway. I picture it carefully in my head as he opens a second one in the void, and just a moment later, we’ve joined Gordon in the room he’s been in. He looks sort of surprised to see us, carrying several grenades, a rocket launcher, and rockets in his arms.

“Hey. You wanna help us fight the Nihilanth?” I ask him.

He nods down to the stuff he’s carrying. I guess that’s a yes.

“Cool! C’mon.” I say, and we all head back through the doorways together. We step back to the street we were on, where we’re close to the Nihilanth, but hidden behind a house in case it tries to attack.

“Hello, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer greets.

Gordon helpfully redistributes the explosives he’s gathered to the others, mostly to free his arms so he can talk to us. He nods up to the Nihilanth.

“When I fought it first in the Border World, I had to break crystals growing out of the walls in its chamber. It had these spheres of concentrated energy around its head back then that made it impossible to attack it, but those spheres aren’t there, now. So I think we can just attack it as it is.” Gordon tells us. “Its head opened when I broke all the crystals, though, and its head isn’t open, so I don’t know how that will affect it.”

“Gross!” Bubby comments, leaning back against a nearby wall.

“Yeah, uhh—getting somewhere up high and camping out there to attack from above sounds like a good idea.” Darnold suggests. “Sniper style, y’know?”

I nod. “Yeah, that sounds good to me. Don’t gotta over complicate things.” I look around for some sort of vantage point. “The tallest building in City 17 is the Citadel—I mean, as long as Breen’s office is still closed off, that seems like it’s perfect, right? And we don’t have to fight for our fucking lives to get there this time, we can just have Tommy teleport us up. If you can, Tommy.”

Tommy nods.

“And if Breen is back up...” Dr. Coomer adds, punching his fist into his open palm.

“Oh, yeah. Sorta forgot about him.” I say with a laugh.

“We’ll need more guns.” Gordon adds.

“Oh. Right.” I say, glancing around. “Umm—maybe I can get us more guns. Like how I got that extract?”

I’m about to close my eyes, get ready to conjure us a bunch of kickass weapons, but something shifts over the street beside us. It’s a “blink and you miss it” kind of thing—I’m so used to random ominous shadows in my vision that I’m honestly prepared to ignore it, but the street...changes afterward. Everyone else looks startled as the road—and _only_ the road, the sidewalk remains unchanged—is transformed into a field of wheat, all the way down until the street turns. It’s like, just a _box_ of a completely different space, actually. There’s even birds that fly by over the wheat, but they simply disappear as soon as they cross over the threshold of the sidewalk; the sky above in the box is much bluer than the gray sky above the rest of us, too.

“What is _that?_ ” Bubby questions.

I poke my head out from around the building we’re hiding behind to get a look at the Nihilanth. It’s...whoa. It looks _wrong._ It looked just fine earlier—well, as fine as it possibly could, considering it’s a giant fucked up alien baby thing—but it’s kind of...glitching. Its head jitters sorta the same way Benry was earlier as it floats around, unleashing a bunch of energy balls around the other buildings nearby. Gordon stands beside me, staring up at it with wide eyes.

“I’m guessing it’s not supposed to do that.” I say to him flatly.

Gordon shakes his head.

Some sharp angle shoots off of it, like if it was still in a video game and its model was fucked up, clipping through the ground and shifting over the buildings before moving up towards the sky endlessly. Tommy’s next to me too, now, recognition in his eyes.

“Whoa. That’s like—like when it was in the...in Black Mesa.” He says. “Except—it was worse. Much, much worse. We couldn’t even—couldn’t even really _see_ it, it was so bad.”

“...Huh.” I mutter. “I wonder what the deal is with that.”

“It’s not supposed to be here.” Benry chimes in.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna say something about passports.” I groan automatically.

“No, dude, shut up for a sec.” Benry tells me a little harshly—fair, I guess, he’s kinda in the middle of dying, he has a right. “It can’t handle being outside the game. ‘Swhy it was like that in the first place. It’s only ever, like, I dunno— _stable_ if it’s in me. ‘Cuz I’m programmed to be in, like...y’know. This program. It was pulled into a map before it was supposed to be.”

“...Hm. Yeah, by G-Man, I think.” Tommy adds thoughtfully. “I wonder why he even wanted the Nihilanth in the first place, then.”

I shake my head to clear it for a second. “Well—I mean, if we kill it, then it’s not gonna be an issue.” I say. “We can totally spitball some theories later, but right now, we gotta get moving.”

Tommy nods uncertainly.

Tommy creates a portal for us to walk through, peeking his head through first to check if it’s safe before ushering us inside. Bubby shuffles through weakly with Dr. Coomer’s help, and Dr. Coomer gently sets them against a wall safe from the window. Benry jolts as he grips his chest again, and...whoa. Just like the Nihilanth, some angle shoots off of him for a second before he returns to normal—relatively speaking, anyway—as sweat starts beading up on his forehead.

“Here, Benry, maybe you should sit down, too.” I say, guiding him down to sit next to Bubby.

He looks up at me as I do, a terrified, but sort of starstruck look in his eyes. I can’t really help a little bit of heat that rushes to my face when he looks at me so closely like that—but like, oh my god, we’re about to face down against the final boss, now is _not_ the fucking time for complicated feelings.

“Just don’t hit me with whatever those things are that keep shooting off of you.” Bubby mutters.

“Where’s Dr. Breen?” I ask as I stand back up fully, looking around.

Tommy just shrugs.

Okay. Well, I guess that doesn’t matter too much right now. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. I close my eyes and start to try and get us all some good weapons to fight with. It doesn’t really seem to work too well with the method I used to get that extract—I’m getting some resistance, since I’m like, not really having an easy time picturing where we’d even _get_ these weapons. I try a different approach. Ummmm—it seems reasonable that...there would be a storage of weapons somewhere nearby. Dr. Breen works in the central Combine hub on Earth, and the Combine has a shitload of really intense weapons. Dr. Breen would probably want some stuff on hand nearby too, right? In case someone tries to come in and assassinate him or something? I walk up to the little panel I saw Judith operating earlier, and after hitting a few buttons, the wall opens up, revealing a large storage of really intense looking weapons. Yeah, we’ve got uhh—another rocket launcher, a crossbow, a few shotguns, some sort of laser thing, and a bunch of explosives. Maybe excessive for Dr. Breen’s office, but hey, I’m not looking for narrative clarity right now—whatever works.

Everyone who’s fighting takes their pick while I wait off to the side. Darnold passes by me with that big laser thing, looking over my gun arm.

“That’s an interesting choice.” He comments. “I thought you didn’t like the tubes.”

I look down at it and shrug. “I mean—a gun arm when I have the _choice_ for one is pretty cool, right? I’ll put it back before we go home. It just...y’know. Felt right.”

Darnold nods. “Yeah. Thematic, I guess.”

I chuckle a little. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What happened that gave you a gun arm?” Gordon asks. “ _I_ didn’t get one.”

“That’s a long story.” I say, putting my non-gun arm on his shoulder. “Probably gonna have to save that for later, because we’re _definitely_ swapping resonance cascade stories as soon as we can.”

Gordon nods in understanding, looking down at the Nihilanth. It’s starting to look slightly worse, now, actually. More sharp angles are shooting off of it, and it’s jittering a little bit more. Me, Gordon, Darnold, Dr. Coomer, and Tommy line up against where the window used to be with our weapons of choice.

Gordon’s the first one to fire a rocket at it experimentally. The rocket hits it for sure, and it groans loudly in response, looking up towards us and conjuring a long string of energy balls. We all scramble from the window’s edge to avoid them, and they fly right past us, leaving dark scorch marks and dents along the walls in Breen’s office.

“Did that—did that _do_ anything?” I ask, peeking around the corner to look at it. “How can we tell if it’s hurting it?”

“I think it hurt.” Gordon replies before stepping out again. Uneasily, the rest of us step out to try our hands at attacking the Nihilanth. It’s levitating up towards us, so we can’t really access its brain or whatever if its head chooses to open up, but we can at least just shoot at it normally. It groans, charging up some big ball of energy. I remember this—it’s that big green lightning ball that teleported us around City 17. We all leap out of the way just in time, and the ball just floats through the office, hitting the back wall and disappearing.

“Hey, we’re doing alright.” I say uncertainly. None of us have been hit yet, at least—it’s a pretty good rhythm. Step out, shoot, step back, hide. If we can keep this up, maybe it won’t be such a big deal.

Once that ball is gone, Gordon leads the charge again and steps back out. The rest of us are starting to follow right behind him, but we stop as something massive and dark swoops up through the floor, another “blink and you miss it” moment—it slices right up through Gordon, and as soon as it’s gone, so is he. In his place, there’s one of those little tiny shopping carts for kids. It slowly rolls off the edge of the window, plummeting into the city below.

“H-...” I stare with wide eyes where he was standing just a second ago. “Hello?”

“Gordon?” Dr. Coomer calls uneasily.

“O-oh my god, Mr. Freeman turned into a shopping cart?!” Tommy exclaims.

I close my eyes, brow furrowing. He’s... _somewhere..._ as Gordon Freeman, not a shopping cart, I think the Nihilanth just swapped them? I just—I can’t really pin him down. I peek my head back out. There’s more of those sharp angles coming out of the Nihilanth, now.

“I think he’s okay.” I tell them. “I just—we’ll have to find him later.”

“Don’t get hit by those things!” Bubby says urgently.

“Yeah, I got that, thanks!” I reply sarcastically.

I take a deep breath and take a step out from behind the wall to start shooting again. The city is changing as those weird angles pop out and roam over the city. Buildings disappear entirely, trees pop up out of nowhere, even parts of skyscrapers just _appear,_ suspended in mid-air, like if someone was trying to erase it from a photo and gave up on the top half. The others follow behind, and we get in a good few seconds of gunfire before it starts to charge up another attack. We leap behind the walls again, me with Dr. Coomer on one side and Tommy and Darnold on the other with Benry and Bubby.

“I get the feeling this is going to take a while, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer says, placing a hand on my upper arm.

I groan a little bit as energy balls fly past us. “That’s fine. As long as we play it safe.”

“What’s with the fact that it—why does it keep _changing_ things?” Tommy wonders.

“Did it not do that in Black Mesa?” Darnold asks.

Tommy makes a non-committal hand gesture. “Kind of? It would—it was stopped by the enclosure. You had to _reach in_ to get anything.”

“Listen, guys, we can figure this all out _later._ ” I remind them as I glance out before stepping out to shoot again.

Everyone else joins me for another attack. I think we’re getting in a pretty good amount of hits—it’s really recoiling, so our attacks are definitely hurting it. I watch cautiously for any sudden movements, and—

“Look out!” I shout, leaping to the side as I watch one of those sharp angles swoop in our direction.

Tommy and Darnold hop back to their side just in the nick of time—this time, as the angle slices through between us, it leaves a massive panel of glass separating Tommy and Darnold from the rest of us. It’s like, the corner of some fancy office building cafe—they’re blocked from attacking back until they break the glass, but hey, at least it looks like they got some uncomfortable wiry looking modernist tables and chairs in there.

“Tommy! Darnold!” I call.

Darnold calls something back, but I can’t quite hear him—when he realizes this, he just opts for a thumbs up. Tommy’s turning his shotgun over in his hands, holding it by the barrels and pointing the butt of it out instead as he approaches the glass to break it. I’m glancing between them and the Nihilanth, trying to watch for a good opportunity to attack—

“Darnold!” Dr. Coomer shouts suddenly.

I look back to Tommy and Darnold, breath hitching when I see Dr. Breen. He’s stood behind Darnold with a pistol pointed to his head. He does _not_ look like he’s fared well after Dr. Coomer attacked him—his face is swollen to hell as he hooks an arm around Darnold’s neck to pull him back. Tommy stares at him wide-eyed as Bubby struggles to stand, but they stop suddenly, clearly still dealing with a great amount of pain. Benry reaches out to Bubby, clearly too terrified to fight himself. They’re saying something to each other—honestly, I’m watching Tommy, waiting for him to start a timestop. And things do shift around, suddenly—Darnold is pulled from Breen’s grasp, and Breen misfires his gun in surprise. Tommy looks exhausted even after just that simple action, though. He and Breen say something else to each other before Breen fires suddenly, catching Tommy in the leg.

“Tommy!” Dr. Coomer and I exclaim. Dr. Coomer starts to run forward, but I catch him by the back of his lab coat to stop him before the Nihilanth launches another attack into the office.

Instead, I aim my gun arm while Darnold aims his laser. Darnold fires first, missing Breen by inches as he lunges forward suddenly. He grabs Tommy by the back of his shirt and points his gun at his head, similar to how he had Darnold. Fuck—I don’t wanna shoot, I might hit Tommy! Bubby’s finally on their feet, though, and things shift again—they’re suddenly latched onto Breen as Tommy’s falling to the floor. Just as he’s about to hit the ground, a sharp angle swoops past, and Tommy is gone, replaced by a decorative towel. Benry’s eyes widen as he scrambles towards the towel, staring down at it before looking back up at the fight in front of him.

Bubby doesn’t seem capable of using their powers too well right now, but they’re still going at it with Breen. Breen’s physically stronger than them right now, though, and manages to push them off of him onto the floor. Darnold has to wait for his laser to recharge, but that doesn’t stop him from retaliating. He puts his boxing training to good use, throwing a nasty looking punch at Breen as Dr. Coomer launches forward, heedless of the Nihilanth just outside. He throws his arms up over his head and crashes through the glass, immediately catching Breen and lifting him with ease over his head.

“You wretched, horrible man!” Dr. Coomer shouts, clear now that the glass is broken. “I should have done this when I had the chance. I should have done this 40 years ago!”

“D-Dr. Coomer— _Harold_ —!” Breen protests frantically. “Don’t do this! I can—I can give you a good word with the Combine, I can—”

Dr. Coomer doesn’t listen to him. He steps towards the glass facing out to the city below, and he chucks him at it full force. Breen crashes through it with a cry, and plummets to his death below.

“Tommy?” Darnold asks, looking from the towel on the floor to the rest of the room.

I close my eyes again. I’m...pretty sure he’s okay. I at least know he’s alive, I just still can’t seem to locate where.

“I-it’s okay! We’ll find him when we can later.” I remind him.

Before I can get anything else out, I see Benry stand out of the corner of my eye. His fists are clenched down by his sides, glitching intensely as he steps out of the safe spot, standing right in the middle of the shattered Citadel window. He keeps shifting between a normal appearance to looking a lot like he did back in the game, actually, when we were fighting. Every few seconds, his body just explodes into something incomprehensible before he goes back to normal.

“Hey!” Benry barks at the Nihilanth.

“H-hey! Dude, stop!” I call to him. “Don’t—”

The Nihilanth groans as it focuses itself on Benry. Before I can make any move to grab him, he’s gone too, replaced by—and if I wasn’t so preoccupied right now, I’d groan—a Playstation controller.

I drag my palm down my face as Dr. Coomer scoops up Bubby to take them somewhere safer again, concern finally hitting me. This is going poorly.

I steel myself, though, and take another deep, steadying breath. We can’t reset. We just have to keep going, and hope for the best.

I step out from behind the wall again, beginning to fire back at the Nihilanth. Darnold and Dr. Coomer follow suit, and the Nihilanth groans again, charging a retaliating attack—one of those big teleport balls. At the same time, I can see an angle coming right in Darnold and Dr. Coomer’s direction.

“Darnold! Coomer!" I warn. “This way, this way, hurry!”

Dr. Coomer and Darnold run my way. Dr. Coomer crashes right through the glass again, right beside the hole he’d left behind before that Darnold picks his way through carefully. The angle misses them, but they’re about halfway to me when the Nihilanth launches its real attack. The two of them disappear in a flash of green light.

“No!” I cry out.

“G-Gordon.” Bubby says, beckoning me to their safe spot. I run over to them when it’s safe to cross to the other side of the room, crouching down to meet them at eye level. They grasp me tightly, one hand on my shoulder and another on my gun arm. “This...I don’t know if we’re going to make it like this, Gordon. We have to find someplace safe and see if we can reset the map.”

“No, I—there was something in the way. That file.” I remind them. “We can’t just let this go on. The Nihilanth is gonna tear this world apart.”

Bubby bites their lip for a long second before groaning, trying to stand.

“No—Bubby, stay put.” I tell them. “Please. I’ll—I’m gonna do everything I can.”

“Gordon.” Bubby says sternly. They stop, then, their expression softening a little. They let out a deep breath. “It’s gonna be okay.”

They sound like they’re reassuring themself, more than me. They stand, regardless of me trying to stop them, and step out from behind the wall as they shake their arms out, bursting into flames from the motion.

“Bubby, I swear to fucking god, don’t!” I call to them desperately.

They only spare me a quick glance before they start to glow a light blue. They lean forward and launch themself off the edge of the Citadel before I can stop them. The Nihilanth groans as they hit it with all they’ve got—right before one of those angles hits them, and they disappear.

I’m all alone, now.

“Fuck.” I breathe. “No, no, no. Oh, fuck.”

Is this it? Are we all gonna die?

...

I guess there’s only one way to find out.

I bear down, clenching every muscle in my body, focusing all my energy into Devil Gun mode. I can almost hear that little music sting before I step out from behind the wall, hitting the Nihilanth with all I’ve got.

“Eat shit, motherfucker!” I can’t help but scream as I shoot.

I can see the Nihilanth charging up a teleport ball, but honestly, at this point, I really don’t give a fuck. Maybe I should? But all my friends just disappeared, and my attacks feel like they do next to nothing against the Nihilanth alone. I keep shooting, even as the ball launches at me and engulfs me entirely.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Darnold chanted as he ran behind Harold. “You guys just _did_ this with Benry?!”

“Well, to be fair, it was pretty different with Benry.” Harold pointed out, taking Darnold by the wrist and pulling him behind a building to rest.

“Looks like we lost our good vantage point.” Darnold said, swallowing hard. “What do we do now?”

Harold shrugged, glancing back out to the Nihilanth. It looked like something straight out of a nightmare, and a familiar headache began to creep up at the back of his skull as he stared at it. He quickly retreated back to safety behind the wall. “I—I don’t know. I normally just followed Gordon or Tommy, whenever we’ve been in dangerous situations like this.”

“Oh, _Tommy._ ” Darnold sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I hope he’s okay.”

Harold placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, feeling a similar way as he thought about Bubby. “I’m certain Tommy’s okay, Darnold. Right now, we really ought to focus on the Nihilanth.”

Darnold nodded. “Y-yeah. Well—we don’t have a good vantage point, but we can still shoot at it from the ground.”

Harold hefted up his rocket launcher. “We certainly can!”

Harold stepped out from behind the building first, standing tall as he fired a rocket at it. Darnold followed his lead a moment later, aiming the laser at it and firing. It groaned at their attack, launching balls of concentrated electricity at them. Darnold ducked behind the building again, quickly followed by Harold, breathing hard.

“Hey.”

Harold and Darnold looked to their right.

“O-oh.” Darnold said. There was a skeleton there, curled up on the ground, looking up at them with empty eyesockets.

“Benry!” Harold greeted, kneeling down beside him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m a skeleton, bro, you know.” He replied, his voice flat but tense, like a rubber band about to snap. “What the fuck is going on? When did we respawn here?”

“Oh—Benry, this isn’t a video game, anymore.” Harold said sympathetically, helping Benry sit up. “Do you not remember?”

Benry didn’t respond. It was impossible to tell what he must have been thinking, without an actual face.

“It’s going to be alright.” Harold reassured him, hugging him gently in his arms before standing back up. “Just wait here. We’re going to take that thing down.”

I close my eyes against the bright light, only opening them again once it seems to have died down. I’m not in City 17. I’m in some sort of canyon, actually; not like the one around Black Mesa, this one’s a lot more empty and desolate. Empty except for the Nihilanth. I take a few steps forward, only to suddenly find myself in the middle of some mostly wrecked building in City 17, ceiling completely torn away. Well, wherever I am, it looks like it’s not gonna matter—the Nihilanth stays there in the sky, no matter where I go. I start firing at it again, having a much harder time avoiding its counterattacks without consistent cover. The city is a fucking mess, with the Nihilanth changing things left and right; I’m running to duck behind one of those Combine tanks when I see a shadow quickly getting bigger around it. I look up and leap out of the way, laying flat on my back on the ground just in time for a massive ship to crush the tank with a deafening _crash._

“This fucking sucks!” I can’t help but shout.

I hear frantic, rhythmic tapping behind me. I turn, looking behind myself to find Gordon, peeking out from behind a building.

“Gordon! There you are!” I shout at him.

He starts to sign something at me, only to just...disappear. Nothing swept him away, certainly not one of those angles, but he’s just _gone._

“Goddammit.” I groan. I push myself back up to my feet and look back up at the Nihilanth. It looks _really_ bad. It’s honestly sort of starting to hurt to look at it for too long, but I fight through that to fire at it as much as I can before I have to dodge another attack.

This _sucks_ to do alone. I really need to find my fucking friends.

“Oh, shit!” I press myself hard against the wall I hid behind, watching as that car I was driving down the beach just drops right in front of me with a crash. I breathe out a small sigh of relief, glad it wasn’t close enough to hit me, but something _happens_ with it. Another one pops off of it, halfway clipped through it at a different angle. Then another—it just starts _growing_ in a massive heap. I have to run from it to avoid an onslaught of cars, but stop as a _swoop_ of an angle passes by right in front of me, and suddenly, I’m getting doused in a waterfall. I stumble through the waterfall and spit out river water, wishing I had something dry to clean off my glasses on.

This is a mess. The Nihilanth is really tearing into the city—it’s hardly a city anymore. I step forward, and I’m suddenly stood at a cliff’s edge. So I have to backtrack, searching for safe paths where I can barely even trust what I see. Still, the Nihilanth is always something consistent in the sky. I charge up my Devil Gun again and fire at it, watching as rockets and laser beams appear out of nowhere to hit it as well. One rocket soars right into what would be the Nihilanth’s center before I can see it launch right back out towards _me._ I have to leap out of the way to avoid it, only to start falling _much_ further than I expected. I’m falling down that cliff I nearly stepped off of, now, screaming as I go.

Bubby’s head spun as they crumpled to concrete that hadn’t been beneath them a second ago, lying on their side as they struggled to catch their breath. That attack had taken everything out of them, and now they were...

They weren’t on concrete anymore, actually. They brushed their hand over the ground, feeling soft, wet grass beneath their palm instead. They turned their gaze upward towards the sky, watching the Nihilanth above them. They felt like they barely even made an impact on it, even after all that power they’d mustered up to throw at it; they’d left Gordon alone, and now they had no idea where they were.

They blinked slowly, trying to get their bearing as everything seemed to be closing in on them. They weren’t on grass, actually; hadn’t they been a second ago? They found themself on a carpet, and for a moment, in their slightly delirious state, their heart leapt at the prospect that they were home. Just passed out on the floor, for perhaps slightly concerning reasons, but none as concerning as anything they’d just experienced. The carpet was caked with dirt, though, and more wiry than the type they had in their house. They looked up again. The Nihilanth was still there.

They knew what this was, distantly. Something from their backstory—no, Tommy’s backstory. That was a distinction to be made, for some reason. They started trying to push themself up to get their bearings, blinking a couple times when everything shifted around them. They were on the ground in City 17, in the middle of some sort of plaza. They squinted at the forms of Alyx and Barney huddled somewhere relatively safe. The two of them looked despondent and uncertain of what to do. Bubby couldn’t blame them, they thought as everything changed again.

Oh, right, they thought—the Nihilanth teleported things around at random. They’d gotten caught up in a loop. Their arms gave out underneath them, and they dropped again onto solid ground they didn’t have the energy left in them to analyze. As they stared up at the sky, the Nihilanth looming over them, all they could do was hope Gordon and the others could figure out how to get home.

I hit the ground before I really should have, though. I open my eyes again, and my stomach lurches as I feel like I’m about to fall again, but I don’t—I’m just suspended in midair well above the rocks above, like some sort of killplane that doesn’t actually affect me. I sigh in relief and stand up uneasily, taking a step forward and finding myself in about half of a grocery store, the rest of the wall sliced clean through to give me a good view of the Nihilanth.

The rockets and laser beams are just going right through it, now, getting redirected instead of hitting it. It doesn’t even look _close_ to the Nihilanth anymore, either. Honestly...I’m not really sure what to do, anymore. I just start running to where I see the lasers and rockets coming from, hoping I can reach where they’re coming from on foot—I’m sure it must be Dr. Coomer and Darnold.

It starts to feel _really_ fucking impossible along the way, having to pick my way around invisible obstacles and randomly appearing threats, but eventually, I start to hear their voices. I poke my head behind the building I hear them from, sighing in relief when I see them with one of the skeletons. He must have run off from where we put all the clones and skeletons to keep them safe—it’s like the skeletons don’t even _realize_ they’re in danger.

“Gordon!” Darnold and Dr. Coomer exclaim.

“It’s a real mess out there, isn’t it, Gordon?” Dr. Coomer asks.

“Yeah—I guess our attacks don’t even hit it, anymore.” I tell them, leaning back against the wall with them. “What do we even _do?_ ”

Darnold shakes his head. “I-I don’t know. I was hoping you’d have a plan.”

I close my eyes. “Yeah. I guess I don’t. Any ideas, Benry?”

“Huh? No.” The skeleton replies.

I sigh. “Maybe Bubby was right. Maybe it’s better if we just—if we try and find somewhere safe while I figure out how to get us home.”

I feel Dr. Coomer’s hand on my shoulder. “Whatever you think is best, Gordon, I’ll be happy to be by your side.”

I smile a little. “Thanks, Coomer. Let’s see if we can get further away from this thing.”

I start walking, my friends in tow behind me. We’re making pretty good headway away from the Nihilanth, actually—it’s not easy, but I’m starting to get the hang of leading us all through these weird obstacles. I—

“Gordon, watch out!” Darnold shouts suddenly.

“Huh?” I ask, lookin

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


LOADING...

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


I open my eyes, breathing hard. It’s happening again. The teleport loop. The rotations are longer this time, though. Back in Black Mesa, when I was observing the Nihilanth, there was always exactly a half second before the location changed. This time, it’s about 5 seconds. Plenty of time for me to open a doorway and step through into the void. So I start to, intent to go back to the Citadel and let all my friends know I’m okay, but I stop when I’m automatically teleported into the void by the Nihilanth. Awfully nice of it, I think while I open another doorway out of the void.

The doorway closes, though, before I can get the chance to go through.

“What?” I ask, trying again to open it. It only opens about an inch at the bottom before slamming shut again.

Something seems...off. The void is different than I expect it to be, and I feel this... _presence_ in here. Someone other than myself, someone deeply overbearing. The presence sort of hurts my head.

“...Hello?” I call. I hear that low groaning the Nihilanth makes in response. “Wh-...whoa.”

The Nihilanth keeps talking, but I can’t understand it. I don’t think I’d really be able to communicate with it. We’re aliens to each other, and I’m not a linguist—I’m pretty sure I only really understand so much of the sweet voice because of whatever happened when the Nihilanth initially disappeared, when I got Benry out before the game.

I guess I have narrative control back, though, for some reason. I don’t know _why._ Gordon takes control like it’s nothing, and I couldn’t pull it away when I tried—not because I wanted it back, I was just curious, honestly. I actually kind of hate having control. That’s so much responsibility on one person, trying to look out for themself and so many other people they aren’t even physically nearby. When we get back home, I never wanna do this again.

But for now, I can use it for something that might help. I don’t know if it’s gonna work, but that file that Benry apparently can’t work without...

****

The Nihilanth was never meant to exist like this.

It doesn’t know where it is. Can’t even process that it doesn’t know, or that there’s anywhere for it to be. The Nihilanth isn’t self aware.

Tommy Coolatta, however, can still see through its eyes, making sense of what the Nihilanth never could. At first, it sees nothing. It exists in an impossible space, if one could even _call_ it “existing”. It’s just dormant code in a separate part of an unfamiliar program. Then, it’s pulled at, from the very core of its code. Like a string tied around the base of its spine, trying to tear it away from itself from the inside. And it works. It’s ripped into existentially, torn to its base elements and scrambled as it’s pulled to a place it was never meant to exist in.

The Nihilanth is in its enclosure in Black Mesa. Scientists stare up at it in mixtures of awe and horror before turning away, rubbing at their temples and shielding their eyes. One man, though, while he certainly looks shocked like everyone else, doesn’t look away. He wears a suit with neatly trimmed black hair, looking out of place amongst all the scientists. He turns to one of them, making some request that the scientist looks appalled by, but shakily moves to comply, anyway.

That alarm sounds as the door to the enclosure unlocks. The man makes some order to everyone, and they all hesitantly leave the lab.

The man circles around the enclosure to the door, opening it to step inside and closing it behind him. He approaches the Nihilanth, staring at it with a cold, hard expression before stepping right into it.

  
  


I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I whirl around, looking at G-Man with wide eyes.

“What—b-but... _how?_ ” I ask, taking a few long steps back. I’m limping, though, with the searing pain going up my leg from when Dr. Breen shot me.

“Tommy, with your...studies, on the Nihilanth, I thought...you would understand.” G-Man replies, stepping towards me. “The Nihilanth’s, sway over time, is the same...as its sway over space. We are, in the past.”

I look around. Yeah—that actually seems about right. The void feels different, the way it felt when I was rescuing Benry. And G-Man just experiences events as they happen _narratively..._ maybe if I can get out of the void, back into the present, I’ll be safe again. G-Man keeps walking towards me, and I keep walking backwards.

“Now, you have—made quite, a mess of things, Tommy.” G-Man continues. “I put...Benry...in the Vault, for a reason. The Nihilanth—cannot be, contained, anymore.”

“ _You’re_ the one who caused this!” I remind him. “What—what can we even _do,_ now?”

“We could...attempt to, remove, the Nihilanth’s file.” G-Man suggests. “If you would...allow me, to regain control.”

“No.” I tell him firmly.

“...Fine. We will, have to do—this, the hard way.” G-Man says, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out his gun. “Truly, Tommy, I _deeply_ regret—that things have come this far.”

I close my eyes and conjure a wall to hide behind. It’s actually a lot easier than I expected. Easier than before, in the void that was merged with G-Man’s. G-Man fires just a split second too late, the shot echoing throughout the void. I step out from behind the wall to point my gun at him, but he’s not there, anymore.

I feel a hand grabbing the back of my shirt and the barrel of the gun pressing against the back of my head. I freeze, holding my breath.

“...I did not, want, to have to do this.” G-Man says. “If you would—just collaborate with me, to remove the Nihilanth, I won’t have—to kill you.”

Okay, he’s definitely stalling. I turn the best I can and grab his wrist holding the gun, twisting his arm to try and get him to drop it. He keeps a firm grip on it, though, misfiring into the void. With my grip on him, I’m able to start a timestop again, at least, and forcibly pull the gun out of his hand. It’s _exhausting_ after how long I’ve been fighting. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on, or what I’m even going to do. Before I can even begin to figure it out, he breaks out of my timestop and forces his own. In an instant, he’s out of my grip, and I can feel a new sharp pain in my stomach. The barrel of G-Man’s new gun smokes a little bit as it points at me. I press my hands to my stomach and can’t help but drop onto the ground.

I can conjure things here, though. I close my eyes and start to imagine a

LOADING...

>I wouldn't do that, Tommy.

>Now. I'm going to clean up this mess.

  
  
  


Please choose the mod you would like to disable.

idkwhatthisisbutbenrydoesntworkwithoutit.rai_

Please wait.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
**This program has stopped responding.**

Stop the program

>Wait for the program to respond

  
  


LOADING...

S rry! ThEre wa a prOblem oVing the des 2ed mod. W9uld y U like To tr agA n?.

>No

  
  


LOADING...

>DON'T.

LOADING...

>Tommy. The Nihilanth is what is holding us here.

LOADING...

>We didn't know that the Nihilanth was what Benry couldn't work without! If there's a chance it'll hurt Benry if you remove it like this, then I'm not going to let you do that.

LOADING...

>What is so different about your motivation from mine? You have been trying to kill the Nihilanth. I'm on your side, Tommy.

LOADING...

>...I guess you're right...we were trying to do the same thing. But that just means we can't kill the Nihilanth! Oh, god. I have to warn the others...

I close my eyes tight, struggling to keep my control on the program. It takes every ounce of energy I have left at this point. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I need Gordon. I’d try to open a doorway, but I don’t think I can even do that, anymore, between holding onto my control over the program, the blood loss, and G-Man suppressing my power.

It doesn’t look good. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this, if G-Man’s found some sort of spacetime loophole to exploit.

...I don’t just need Gordon. I need literally _anyone._

“Now, Tommy. If you’ll—stop fighting me, I will give, you, a medical kit.” G-Man says, standing above me.

I don’t say anything. Honestly, that’s mostly just because I’m too tired to physically speak, but that’s fine. I don’t think I’ll die from this, but it hurts really fucking bad. I rest my cheek on the cold void floor, sweat beading up on my forehead.

“I don’t...want you to be hurt, Tommy.” G-Man insists. “This is all—for your, benefit. I wish you would...understand.”

I stay silent.

“You _will_ , understand, someday. If you would only, let go.” G-Man goes on, crouching down in front of me. “I’m sorry, I...left you behind, for so long. During your most...formative years of growth. Clearly, I failed you. But, Tommy—there’s so much, time, left for us. I want you to understand, my occupation, the significance of my work, what lengths I go to, for my employers—everything I’ve done, there has been a _reason._ ”

I close my eyes. I wish I could plug my ears.

“So much, time, left for us...to understand one another. So much time—and your, _friends_...” G-Man goes silent for a long moment. “Tommy. They are, _so_ much smaller than you understand, now. You are going to, blink, and they are going to be gone. The—lifespan, of a human, is so insignificant...you cannot put, so much importance, on only a few human lives. With my, occupation, you have to think—of the bigger picture.”

I open my eyes, staring intensely at him. “I don’t care. I don’t _care—_ so what if they die before me?! I don’t care!”

“I don’t...expect you, to understand now. You have only—been alive, for a short period of time.” G-Man sighs. “When you...grow older, when you see the—lives, of so many...insignificant creatures, come and go, you have no choice but to think...of the bigger picture. You will understand, someday. And I want you—to be by my side when you do.”

“ _No._ ” I say through gritted teeth.

“Tommy. Let go.”

I close my eyes again, straining to maintain control.

...

I don’t think I can hold on much longer. I guess G-Man is just biding his time, now, waiting for me to let go.

I can hold on, though.

  
  
  


I can hold on. I can do it.

  
  
  
  


It’s _so cold._ I’m worried about my friends. I have to keep holding on, though. They must be fighting the Nihilanth out there. I can wait for them to defeat it.

  
  
  
  
  


I can do it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


My leg and my stomach both hurt so bad. I...don’t know how much longer I can do this. My head feels like it’s being crushed under G-Man’s effort to take control back from me. Where is Gordon? Why hasn’t he taken control?

  
  
  


I can...

I _can..._

  
  


Oh, god. I think I’m about to pass out.

  
  
  
  


There’s a sound, suddenly. Footsteps reverberating across the void, _sprinting_ towards us. I open my eyes and look up. It’s...

Benry. Benry’s running towards us with a furious expression, in his soaked hoodie and hunter’s hat, and he’s glitching so intensely, I almost didn’t recognize him for a second. I feel like G-Man’s about to start a timestop, but Benry takes a sudden sharp turn and disappears. I can still hear him, though. He’s screaming, tearing into something. I catch flashes of him all around us, blinking into existence before suddenly disappearing again, like keyframes of an animation scattered all over the floor. He’s partially submerged inside something, hooking his fingers into claws and plunging his hand in as I can hear the Nihilanth screech all around us. He rips something out that I can’t make out. He digs his nails into it and rips it apart, the horrible, wet sound of muscle and tendons being torn into echoing slightly in the void. Sharp angles release from it, plunging into Benry’s chest. Benry lets it happen, even takes hold of them with his hands and presses them in deeper. I’m holding my breath, eyes wide as I struggle to keep up as he keeps appearing and disappearing in different spots around us.

“No.” G-Man says through gritted teeth. “ _No._ This _cannot_ happen again.”

Benry appears, suddenly, right beside G-Man, breathing hard with his teeth bared and no longer glitching. I feel that intense presence, still, but this time, it’s all radiating from Benry, almost overwhelming as he stands there. G-Man starts a timestop, but Benry, unaffected by G-Man’s power over time, launches himself at him, his limbs glitching and clipping now as he latches onto him and sinks his teeth into G-Man’s shoulder. G-Man cries out, trying to push him away, but suddenly, the two of them disappear.

“B-...Benry?” I manage to call out.

My stomach lurches as I suddenly begin to fall. This space—the Nihilanth isn’t technically _here,_ anymore, and its bearing on time is getting all fucked up. I can feel the space losing what little tangibility it had. And I’m going with it.

I try to make a doorway, but I’m still too fucked up to do anything. I just keep falling, and falling, and _falling._ I can feel a lack of existence seeping into my body, spreading up to my head. I...

I don’t...

I can’t remember...

Darnold had no idea what to do, anymore, other than run for his life. He ran behind Dr. Coomer, who was holding firmly onto a probably concussed Gordon slung over his shoulder. The Benry skeleton ran behind Darnold as they listened to something that could only be described as a deep, existential _groan._ It echoed all around them as parts of the map they were on seemed to be splitting apart, as though their reality around them was falling apart. It probably was. The Nihilanth tore into it indiscriminately, leaving them to leap between parts of the map that were still tangible, and parts that weren’t. Darnold tried to step on what looked like solid ground, only to immediately begin plummeting beneath the map. He felt a bony hand around his wrist, keeping him from falling, before he felt an extendo-arm grip the back of his vest for what must have been the dozenth time to pull him back to safety. Darnold let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t even think he had the energy to thank them, anymore, and they probably didn’t even have the energy to say anything back.

They’d been running for what felt like an eternity. Trying to get Gordon to safety, trying to save themselves from reality shattering apart.

They were probably going to die, Darnold couldn’t help but think.

On Dr. Coomer’s shoulder, Darnold could see Gordon starting to stir. He opened his eyes slowly and unevenly, lifting his head in a sluggish motion to look up at where they were.

“Gordon!” Darnold called out in relief.

Dr. Coomer paused as he noted Gordon waking up as well, allowing Darnold and the skeleton to finally catch up with him fully. Gordon groaned, clumsily putting his normal hand to his head.

“What the hell...” Gordon murmured.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Gordon, we’ll get you somewhere safe.” Dr. Coomer told him gently, looking uncertainly at the path ahead.

Darnold paused, as did Dr. Coomer, as they heard the skeleton grunt behind them. Darnold turned to look at him. He was clutching his chest, and... _something_ was in between the ribs. It didn’t look corporeal, but some sort of...triangle-ish thing, shadowy and glitchy. It wrapped around his bones as he turned to look up at the Nihilanth, which seemed to remain a constant distance behind them, despite how far they’d been running. Darnold followed his gaze, eyes widening as he saw something he could barely understand above him. He saw the Nihilanth. He also saw Benry. Massive, but small, _real_ but not, tearing into the incomprehensible form of the Nihilanth as angles shot out of it to bury themselves into his chest. He looked unbothered by it as he turned to something in the distance, eyes focusing on something that seemed to be deeply important, but Darnold couldn’t see what it must have been. Then he looked down to Darnold, Dr. Coomer, Gordon, and his skeleton counterpart.

“B-...Benry?” Gordon asked, voice low and hoarse.

The Benry out in the distance stared at them for a long moment—maybe more specifically at Gordon, Darnold couldn’t help but think. He looked purposefully ahead of him before shifting like he was standing, disappearing into nothing, and taking the Nihilanth with him.

“Did—...” Dr. Coomer started, then stopped. He moved to stand beside Darnold. “Did he defeat it?”

“Yeah.” The skeleton said. “...He did it.”

“He...saved us...” Gordon murmured before going slack against Dr. Coomer again, his eyes shut tight.

“Everything’s falling apart now, though. Isn’t it?” Dr. Coomer pointed out quietly.

Darnold looked around. “...Yeah. It is.” Biting his lower lip, Darnold curled his fingers into fists. “I hope everyone else is okay. Wherever they ended up.”

Dr. Coomer put his free hand on Darnold’s shoulder. “We can hope for the best. I think...that’s all we can really do right now.”

Darnold nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  
  
  


...

Am I still here?

...Who am I?

Oh. I hear singing. Glowing orbs of all colors appear around me, sparking against the flashes of reality, contrasted by true, absolute _nothing_ that I can’t process. I see a hand reaching out to me. It’s...Benry. I still remember Benry. I remember all my friends—and that gives me a little bit of vitality, now that I can picture their faces, if I try hard enough. I don’t have any hands to reach back with, but I try. I focus on what little I remember of my body hard. It takes every single little ounce of what’s even left of me to manifest a hand to reach out with. We’re just too far away, though. God. I want nothing more than to reach him, let him pull me back to safety. I wanna go home. I wanna be with my family. I wanna live, I wanna be _real._ Benry’s my only lifeline right now, but I _can’t reach him._

“Tommy!” Benry shouts.

If I had a jaw, it’d be clenched firmly shut. If I had Dr. Coomer’s extendo-arms, I could reach _further._ I try so hard, I remember the way his arms shoot out to latch onto things. If I try hard enough, I...think I can do that, too, with how intangible and unreal I am right now. Somehow, just barely, my arm starts to extend towards Benry. I strain to reach further, further, and finally, I feel Benry’s fingers curl around my hand. Benry starts to tug on me, and

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


LOADING...

Whoa.

Oh my god. What happened?

I’m held firmly in someone’s arms—definitely Dr. Coomer, actually, and I can see Darnold and the skeleton. I look around. I...can’t even keep up with what I’m seeing. We’re standing somewhere solid, above what used to be City 17. It’s not even recognizable, anymore; there’s no sky, just completely black void all around parts of different environments, different _maps,_ all mashed together like someone who doesn’t understand puzzles, just forcing pieces together that don’t actually fit. There’s gaps, there’s water flooding down into an endless pit, there’s parts of rectangular skyboxes—and something feels so wrong with it, even beyond how fucked up it all looks, but I can’t even pinpoint what.

“Gordon!” Dr. Coomer exclaims, holding me tighter. “Are you okay?”

I nod slowly, putting a hand to my head. “What—what _happened?_ ”

“Something fell from the sky and hit you in the head. We’ve been trying to get you somewhere safe ever since, but...” Darnold trails off, looking out over the edge himself. “This seems to be the closest we can get to ‘safe’. I mean—the Nihilanth is gone now, at least, so there’s that.”

“...It is?” I ask, looking down and confirming that it is indeed no longer over the remains of City 17. “Did you defeat it?”

“Benry did.” Darnold says, nodding to the skeleton.

Dr. Coomer sets me down, and I look to the skeleton, who looks back at me blankly. No face to emote with, of course.

“You—...you _are_ Benry, right?” I question awkwardly.

The skeleton shrugs. “I guess so? I dunno, man.”

“Well...” I reach out, putting my hand on the bones that make up his shoulder, whatever that mess is called. “...Thanks, man.”

The skeleton nods, almost imperceptibly. “No big deal.” He replies quietly.

“Do we know where anyone else is?” I ask them.

“We didn’t run into anyone else, unfortunately.” Dr. Coomer says with a deep frown.

“Tommy’s fine, now.” The skeleton says suddenly.

“What?” I ask. “How do you know that?”

The skeleton points below us. I step just a tiny bit closer to the ledge to _really_ look down. I can’t actually see anything down there, so I close my eyes instead and try to pinpoint him. He’s...with Benry. The non-skeleton one. They both feel _weird_ —so does everyone else, actually? It’s like...they’re the most...real things there are left. Once I’m tuned into that, it becomes so much easier to focus on all of them than any of our actual physical surroundings.

...

Our world is dying. It’s like, _atrophying,_ falling apart, and pretty soon, we’re going to be the only things left, and who knows what’ll happen then?

Huh. I think...I can feel someone else, too. It’s different, though, sort of familiar. A feeling I haven’t had in a very, _very_ long time.

“Whoa.” Darnold says suddenly.

I open my eyes and follow his gaze back down to what used to be City 17. Massive chunks of it are just slowly disappearing. I grab onto Darnold with one hand, holding out my gun arm for Dr. Coomer to hold onto and nodding at the skeleton to grab on as well, as we watch it all just pop out of existence.

“Th-...the map...” Darnold says, squeezing my hand tightly. He takes in a sharp, shaky breath. “We’re...we’re gonna disappear.”

I close my eyes tightly. I reach out to all of our friends, as our surroundings become less and less vital. I reach as many as I can find—Tommy, Benry, Bubby—before opening my eyes again, seeing them all joined with us again.

“Tommy!” Darnold exclaims, and Tommy throws his arms around him tightly. Darnold holds him close, and I can hear him starting to hyperventilate. Of course he’d be panicking. He’s experienced this before; he knows the terror already of a map disappearing around him, getting dropped out of existence just like everything else.

Dr. Coomer takes hold of Bubby as they look ready to pass out, supporting them with his free hand and burying his face in their shoulder wordlessly. Bubby blearily wraps their arms around Dr. Coomer.

“I-it’s gonna be okay.” I tell them all, as I can feel some sort of... _snap._ A disconnect between us and reality, and suddenly, the concrete we were standing on disappears. We don’t fall, but it gives us all a sudden lurch in our stomachs as we just float there.

Benry appears in front of me. “Bro...I think the program’s all fucked up.”

“It’s okay.” I reassure him. I don’t have any free arms, so I just nod at him. “Hold onto me. It’s gonna be okay.”

“C-can you reset the map now?” Tommy asks, voice shaking. “The—the Nihilanth—it’s back with Benry, now. S-so maybe...”

As a kneejerk reaction, I wanna say that I don’t know what Tommy’s talking about, but...huh. I guess I kinda do. As Benry wraps his arms around me tightly, the knowledge of the Nihilanth being an inseparable part of Benry, now, after they merged before the game—or, if you wanna get technical, merged _during_ the game—just kinda seeps into me. It was too giltched out to get moved properly to another map. I close my eyes, trying to focus in on what I remember of home.

LOADING...

  
  
  
  


Th1s prog am has st p0ed res01110000 01101111 01101110ding.

St8p the pro r 

>Wa t for th5 pr01101111 01100111 ram to r ond

  
  
  
  


S0r y! The menu you ar ing to loaaaad is n t resp.Onding. Wou you like to tr n?

Y5s

>No

I swallow hard, opening my eyes again and shaking static out of my head. “I-...it’s not working.” I say. “The program—it’s all glitched out, I can’t...I can’t reload the map.”

Everyone stares at me with deep frowns, all displaying varying levels of dismay and acceptance. God. I can’t fucking stand to see them having to accept we’re about to die. I close my eyes, holding them a little closer.

“I-it’s gonna be okay.” I tell them again. Honestly...I don’t know if that’s even true. But it feels good, to be holding onto as many of my friends as I can, as the world around us disappears. I...

I can’t find Joshua, no matter how hard I look, now. I guess he must be already gone. I bite my lip, holding Darnold’s hand tighter as they all move to squeeze into a group hug with me and Benry at the center. This is it. This is really it, isn’t it?

A lump forms in my throat. I don’t want this to be it.

I don’t want this to be the end. We deserve better than that. This reality, set up to be completely dependent on the willingness and ability of one single person so removed from us that this is just nothing but a _game_ to him, someone who _left us to die_ —it’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. We’re _people,_ we’re real fucking people! Whatever type of fucking reality we’re in, no matter how “not real” it is, it _feels_ real. We all love each other, and that’s real. I can’t just let that all disappear forever. I can’t let it.

The map is gone, and I can feel everything slowly beginning to drift away from us. That _snap_ I felt, us disconnecting from the world we’re in, it’s like that distance is getting bigger and bigger, and we’re fading away as we’re distancing ourselves from everything else. I think everyone else feels it too, because they all hold onto me and each other tighter, but...it’s getting harder to feel them. Harder to see them, harder to hear them.

It’s not fair.

I feel so sick, imagining my friends disappearing forever. I feel it so strongly, it becomes the most vital, _real_ thing around us, realer than even myself—it flashes across the lack of existence around us like lightning, catching on the little flecks of code that are still running.

I can _feel_ that code. I open my eyes and reflexively reach out—not with my arms or anything, but I can feel...

something left. The echoes of someone I care so much for. Someone who isn’t here, now, because of the player’s cruel disappearance, because of _reality’s_ cruel disappearance. I remember him, and even if his code was no longer running, the program could never ever take him away from me. I remember him so vividly, I remember...

As I stare up into that blank space ahead of me, I can see him. His eyes are closed serenely, exactly the way I remember him. He opens his eyes slowly like he’s just waking up, looking around in confusion before his eyes lock with mine. He kind of paddles his arms, unsure of how to move in the void, but I can draw him in. My arms are still occupied by the others, but Benry looks up, wrapping an arm around him to steady him and hold him close with us.

“Josh.” I choke out, burying my face in his hair. “Are you okay, bud? Do you feel okay?”

“What’s going on?” He asks, looking up at the empty space around us.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” I say to him quietly.

If I can do that...

I remember while we were with the player...he said something about how there’s conditions and limitations, even for him, to keep this world...“viable”. There were _safeguards_. Tommy said that earlier, too, he could nudge things around, but it had to make sense, narratively speaking. But...the vortigaunts said something about how I could do more. And I did, with Bubby—I was able to get that essence or whatever, even if it made literally no sense for me to just _have_ it when I wanted it.

It makes no sense that I could just...reappear Joshua, after he disappeared.

...It makes no sense that we’re even still here.

I focus. I focus hard on reaching out. I can take hold of what’s left, if I really try, I think I can shape it to my will. Make it my own.

I watch in front of me, imagining the street we live on. Imagining the sky, the warm summer air, the smells of home, the sounds of Sunkist barking next door in Tommy’s backyard, birds singing and trees rustling. It all bursts into life in front of us, tilted strangely like a sculptor holding it at a weird angle to get the details just right. I can hear the others gasping as they watch the cascade of colors above us, or maybe below us, and I see Sunkist there! She’s wagging her tail at us and prancing around in the street, watching as I rebuild everything.

“Sunkist!” Tommy calls out in relief.

I’m not really...focusing on this, anymore. Now that it’s started, it’s just _happening,_ like the world is reaching into me and ripping the map out from inside of me. I wrap my arms tighter around the others, unable to do literally anything else as we all watch everything form around us, at the center of a world we know so well.

  
  
  


“Gordon?”

  
  


It’s all coming together, stemming directly from me, the world tearing itself out of me piece by piece. It’s real, realer than I even remember—at least, I want it to be, I _want_ it to be real so desperately. I close my eyes, feeling particles and code sliding into place, exactly where it’s meant to be.

  
  


“Gordon! Are you okay?”

  
  


I can feel myself getting dragged down, then there’s something solid beneath my feet. I collapse to it, feeling the particles of the road under me surging in and out of my whole existence. The air does the same, I can feel the environment in every little fiber of my being, vibrating and bursting to life inside and around me.

  
  


“Gordon! Dude, come on, look at me.”

“What the fuck is happening to him?”

“Gordon, it’s going to be okay! Just open your eyes, focus on us.”

  
  


I force my eyes open, looking up at the sky. My friends are here, all knelt over and crowded around me. Benry and Dr. Coomer both have tears in their eyes as they look at me. Bubby has to lean against Dr. Coomer for support, but they’ve reached out, they’re holding onto me like I’ll disappear if they don’t. Maybe they’re right. Tommy and Darnold are here, they’re both holding onto me too, Tommy looking like he’s focusing really hard on something. And Josh is held in Darnold’s arms, looking like he wants to come towards me, but...Darnold is holding him back.

  
  


“Dude, look at me.” Benry says, grabbing my face harshly between his palms and looking at me intensely. “Focus, man, don’t go. I don’t want you to go.”

His voice cracks as he says that. I try to reach out to him, but that’s just forcing me to contend with what’s going on with my arms. They’re...glitching, shifting between all kinds of different materials, all very much _not_ what they’re supposed to be. My hands don’t have a consistent shape, shifting and matching up with what’s still going on in my head as the world rebuilds itself piece by piece. Asphalt, drywall, river water, rocks, tree bark...I can’t feel my legs, either, I think...they’re disappearing. I look down, and sure enough, I can’t actually _see_ them anymore, and that’s slowly traveling up my body.

“I-it’s okay, Gordon, you—you can stop, just—let go, let me take control again.” Tommy pleads.

I don’t think I _can_ let go. It feels like everything is flooding over me, like I can’t get a grip on who or what I even am anymore. As I try to anchor myself on anything, I feel like it just ends up rebuilding itself, like...the road keeps rebuilding underneath me, over and over, clipping into itself infinitely. My house does the same, the sky does the same—it’s like that fucking helicopter heap, everything is popping in and out of each other. I can see the effects, too, pieces of reality clip in and out of each other violently as I try so hard to fix it.

“Gordon! Come on, get a hold of yourself!” Bubby shouts desperately, still holding onto me tightly.

>gordon!

>listen to me, gordon.

>close your eyes.

I close my eyes tightly.

>it's okay. i got it. i got you, now. just clear your head.

I can’t.

>you can. it's okay. just listen to me. focus on me, ONLY me, don't think about anything else, okay?

I’m trying.

>it's gonna be okay, you're just panicking. you're not supposed to have this kind of power. but it'll be okay if you just relax, listen to me, let it all go.

“Gordon, come on, stay with us!” Darnold says, his voice shaking.

>don't listen to him. just close everything off. let it go.

I can’t let it go. _You_ let it go. You left us. I can’t let that happen again.

>i know. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry for everything that happened. it's going to be okay, though, i promise. normally i'd try to tell you all these grounding techniques, but right now, i need you to try and separate yourself from your body as much as you can. okay? can you do that?

I try. I try to relax whatever’s left of my body, so I can’t feel my aching muscles tensing, anymore. I try to tune out my worried friends’ voices, tune out the vibrations of reality moving in and out of me.

>that's it. you're doing good. now don't freak out, okay?

It’s hard not to when whatever’s about to happen is prefaced with _that._

>right, sorry. just a heads up though, it's about to get a little weird, but i promise it's going to be okay. i know you don't have any reason to trust me right now, but i really, REALLY need you to try. please?

...

Okay.

  
  


I feel a shift, somewhere in my head. A familiar one. Something I experienced in key moments during the game, when realizations I didn’t want to recognize were acknowledged by someone decidedly not _me._ Like I’m drifting backwards out of my body, and my arms begin to move of their own accord.

I can’t really see very well—it’s like when I’m dissociating, a layer of foggy glass between myself and everything else. I hear my own voice, though, even though I’m not the one speaking.

“It’s okay.” My voice says. I watch as I sit up, looking to the rest of my friends. “Just give me a second, okay? It’ll all be okay. I’m gonna break down this map, and then I’ll let Gordon go, and we can all talk.”

Everyone looks back at me, dumbfounded as the player stands up with my body. He flexes my fingers on my left hand, shaking out the right arm a little bit, and my arms return to normal. Then, just like promised, I can feel the repeat layers of the map breaking down one by one, until suddenly, we’re just back in the void.

“You gonna be okay if I let you go?” The player asks me.

Uhhh...

“Here.” The player pauses, taking in a deep breath, then letting it out. He sits down cross-legged and starts to do a breathing exercise, tensing my muscles and relaxing them repeatedly. I kinda just have to let it happen, but I can feel my body relaxing, my heartrate slowly going down until the player stops. “Okay. You good, Gordon?”

Ummm. Yeah?

“Okay. I’ll let go now.” The player says. “Just don’t try and build anything, don’t try and do anything program-related. Okay? I got it from here.”


	55. The Player

LOADING...

Gordon’s body slumped over a little as I released him. He had to take a moment to adjust, like he forgot how to move his body again before he sort of sluggishly shook his head, as if shaking unwanted thoughts away. He blinked several times, looking up at his friends who watched him with worry in their eyes.

“Gordon! That’s...that’s you, right?” Dr. Coomer asked.

Gordon nodded slowly. “...Yeah. It’s me.”

Gordon felt arms around him before he even processed who moved in to hug him, then another pair of arms. He looked down. Benry had made the move first, holding Gordon tightly and pressing his face against a flat panel of the HEV suit. The second person was Joshua, who was moving in closer to get comfortable in Gordon’s lap. Gordon wrapped his arms around them both with a deep, heavy sigh.

“Sorry about that.” Gordon murmured, voice hoarse.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything!” Dr. Coomer replied, throwing his arms around Gordon, Benry, and Joshua. The others were quick to join in as well, engulfing Gordon entirely.

“Don’t fucking do that again.” Bubby added as they held everyone close.

Gordon couldn’t help but snort a little. “Yeah, man, I’ll try not to. That really sucked.”

After a long moment, the others began pulling away one by one, wiping away relieved tears. Gordon glanced around again, now that he was finally able to process his surroundings easier, and he was faced with more figures around them. All the clones and skeletons were here—as well as someone else. He was familiar, fiddling with what passed as his fingers anxiously as he waited for them to be ready to speak to him. He was just as strangely incorporeal as Gordon remembered, with an inconsistent form Gordon couldn’t quite get a hold on.

>uhhh...hey.

“You’re _alive?_ ” Tommy asked in awe.

“We thought you died!” Darnold said, holding Tommy’s hand tightly.

“Yeah, what the fuck happened?” Gordon demanded. “ _We_ could have died! If you were okay, why didn’t you do anything _before_ we nearly disappeared?”

>i know, i know, i'm sorry. i like--i DID die, technically, i just don't die permanently. by the time i came back, the maps had already been altered for a while. i came back about when you did after the nova prospekt explosion, gordon. i couldn't do anything direct until g-man was actually taken care of and locked away, or else he'd just kill me again. i helped a little bit from the sidelines, where i could, like guiding tommy to get g-man into the vault.

“Does that mean we can go home, now?” Bubby asked impatiently.

Gordon’s eyes widened a little in surprise. “Oh—you can talk to all of us at once, now?”

>yeah! i can't take the credit on that one. you guys have really evolved a lot since i was killed. your ability to tune into the program isn't really something i expected to be able to happen. thank god though, you guys killed it out there!! i'm so proud of you all :)

“Yeah, and _it_ nearly killed _me._ ” Bubby said bitterly.

> ): yeah. i'm sorry, really. i never wanted this to happen, but...well, i'm the one who was most capable of preventing all this. i knew g-man was up to no good, but i never could have imagined it would be this bad. i got so caught up in trying to make sure you guys got a good life after black mesa, i didn't watch out for him enough, because i was sure i could handle it. i guess the truth is, though, i'm really not in as much control as i thought. all of this has gotten to be so much more than i ever dreamed. you guys got a lot of horrible shit hoisted on your shoulders. no ai should have the weight of their entire reality put on them. i'm really, really sorry. but it's gonna be okay from now on. g-man's in prison, and i can take that all back, and you guys can go back to living normal lives!

Dr. Coomer stepped forward. “Actually, if I may...I’m not sure if that ‘normal’ is truly what fits our needs best.”

Tommy nodded. “Y-yeah. I don’t know, like—we were just living like that because, umm...because we thought that was our only option. But—but I don’t...like, I don’t want control. I _really_ don’t. That was _awful._ But...” Tommy paused to get his thoughts in order. “It feels weird, having someone we barely know controlling everything, uhh, from behind the scenes. You know?”

“Yeah.” Darnold agreed. “And like, do we _have_ to have an audience?”

>well...i mean, the audience thing is sort of how it all started. for this reality to continue as it has been, it needs to be visible.

There was a brief, disquieted pause.

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Gordon said thoughtfully. “The audience thing doesn’t really bother me. I don’t wanna, like, discredit how you guys feel, but like, we’ve had a life because of it, right? We all mean something to people. I guess I think that’s alright, if that’s a condition of our reality.”

“Yeah, bro, course the Justin.TV streamer would say that.” Benry teased, his voice still sort of hoarse from the stress of earlier.

Gordon snorted. “I mean—fair, I guess.”

“Yeah. I think I agree.” Tommy said. “I think—I guess my thing is, um, I just...we should get a say in things. You know?”

>...yeah. yeah, that makes sense. umm--hm. so like, what sorts of things did you want to change, other than choice over what gets shown?

“Capitalism.” Gordon immediately said.

>you don't want capitalism? yeah, i mean, sure. we could easily restructure things like that.

“Yeah! I mean, do we even need our society to be the way it was?” Gordon questioned. “I was thinking about this in Black Mesa a little bit, I guess. Like—so...I guess my next question is, to what extent do other people...exist?”

“Yeah, where’s everyone from the second game?” Bubby asked, looking around.

“Yeah—like, I dunno, it’s really cool how I’m friends with everyone here.” Darnold added. “I love everyone here a lot.”

“I love you too, Darnold!” Dr. Coomer chimed in.

“Aww—thanks.” Darnold said, a little bashfully. “Umm—it’s just...I never got the chance to be friends with anyone else. Which...feels a little weird? The whole ‘fated encounters’ thing is alright, but like, it...changes my whole perspective on it all.”

>oh, yeah. i can totally bring in everyone from hl2. everyone cool anyway, not the combine, lol. and gordon, that's complicated. i was sort of improvising along the way whenever you NEEDED someone else. like, how in dnd, the dm can say a tavern is full of people, and they got the already fleshed out npcs, but if a player chooses to talk to, like, some random guy sitting in the corner booth, the dm is just spitballing on the spot to make someone interesting to talk to? and they could either never come up again or even join the party? like that.

“So like—if it’s just a little community of us, and all our needs are inherently taken care of, we don’t even need a government.” Gordon rambled thoughtfully.

>i mean, you barely had a government before at all anyway. but yeah, sure. like, you guys just kinda quietly had unlimited money. i can just take away the necessity of money entirely.

“And...I think I agree with Darnold.” Dr. Coomer said, twirling his hair over his finger. “I feel strange, having it only be a select few people. Isn’t there any way to have everyone be distinct?”

>...yeah, there is. um, it kind of goes along with what i was saying about the intents and requirements of your reality. i guess...to tell the truth, i'm not even sure you guys can be contained entirely on my computer, anymore.

“What?” Gordon questioned. “What does that mean for us, then?”

>you won't die, it's not anything terrible. actually...it's...well, it would benefit you guys a lot.

“...You don’t sound thrilled by that.” Darnold observed.

>yeah. i know. sorry. it's...kind of selfish of me, i guess. but yeah, anyway, i could move you guys and your home off my computer and contain it somewhere that'll actually make your reality more self-sustaining. events will happen naturally, people will exist and be born on their own, and nobody can take control, anymore. it'll be totally efficient on its own, and it doesn't necessitate observers for it to exist at all.

“Oh. That sounds fantastic.” Dr. Coomer said, but his tone was uncertain. “So...what’s the problem?”

>well--i wouldn't...be able to facilitate anything, anymore. i...i'd miss you guys.

“Man, so like, you wouldn’t be able to talk to us, anymore?” Benry asked.

>no. you guys would be totally on your own.

Dr. Coomer’s posture changed a little as he looked at everyone else. “That’s what we need! All I’ve wanted was a reality where we weren’t the only ones in existence. I want to live in a world that’s _real._ ”

Gordon looked back at the player. “... _Would_ it be real?”

>i mean, what IS real? if you think about it, what makes even THIS not real? i guess i'm biased because of my job and who i am, but i guess the "real" vs "not real" distinction never mattered to me. the only difference for you guys is the naturally occurring events, and the naturally occurring people.

Tommy nodded in understanding. “Yeah. Yeah—that makes sense.”

“So like...if we go there, can we still choose rules for our world?” Darnold asked.

>yeah, i mean, society shit would be a piece of cake from your perspective. technically, more hard-set laws of reality and life would be in place. limited resources, etc etc, and...you guys can die. you'd HAVE to, eventually. except sunkist.

Sunkist barked. Everyone else looked to each other uncertainly, waiting for someone else to speak.

“...I think that’s a good option.” Dr. Coomer finally filled in.

“I don’t know.” Benry suddenly said. “I...kinda liked how it was before. I don’t wanna go somewhere where everyone’s gonna die.”

“I mean, wasn’t that how it was before?” Darnold pointed out.

>not quite. you guys could have died prematurely, if i wasn't careful. but...well, you...wouldn't have existed forever that way. i guess like, technically you guys have a little more time as you are to go back in the computer, but you're always constantly growing, and my computer can't handle that forever. you'd either just...hit a peak and fizzle out, or i'd have to move you over eventually, anyway.

“Huh.” Gordon murmured. “Well, if this was an inevitability, why not just get it done now?”

Gordon looked to his friends. Most of them were nodding, except Benry, who had his hands stuffed in his pockets as he stared down at the ground.

“Benry, it’s okay.” Tommy said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s better this way, isn’t it?”

Benry looked up at Tommy. “How long are we gonna live for?” He asked.

>well, i can't make any promises on general group lifespan

“No, no.” Benry interrupted, gripping Tommy’s forearm. “Us. We’re aliens. Technically.”

Tommy’s expression grew cold. He looked to Darnold, squeezing his hand and biting his lip.

“I...” Tommy started, then stopped. He took in a breath, shaking his head like he was shaking away unwanted thoughts. “I’d...rather it be this way. We all should get to have full—um, fuller lives, than just eventually...‘f-fizzle out’.”

Benry looked back down at the floor. “...Yeah.”

“We’ll have each other.” Tommy reminded him gently.

Benry looked at him, brow furrowed. “...I tried to kill you.”

Tommy nodded. “You also saved my life, Benry. It’s—you’re my friend. I care about you. It’ll—it’ll be okay.”

Benry paused for a long time before wrapping his arms around Tommy. Tommy hugged him back, and as they pulled away, Benry pulled Tommy down a little to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Cool.” Benry muttered as he pulled away fully. He still seemed so sad and worried, but he looked up at the player. “...So like...is this gonna be it?”

>...yeah. if you guys wanna transition immediately, i can move you over.

Gordon stepped forward towards the player. He tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but his hand phased right through. Gordon sort of mimed it instead, which felt vaguely familiar.

“...Sorry.” Gordon said awkwardly. “I guess it’s just weird, like, knowing you were controlling some things for a while, but...I guess we _did_ have good times because of it. I know I was a little harsh earlier, but to be fair, I thought we were all gonna die.”

>no, yeah, that's fair.

“So...thanks, man. For everything you did.” Gordon finished.

The player nodded.

>of course! all i wanted was to give you guys the space you needed to just chill out and exist, enjoy each other's presence, and have good, fulfilling lives. i mean, that's my JOB, technically. but i mean...i did it out of a lot of love for you guys. i know that's probably weird, coming from me, so...sorry about that. but i hope you understand that all i ever wanted was for you to be happy. i guess...it's sort of hard to let go and accept putting you into a world where anything could happen. but you all have each other. so...i'm sure it'll be okay.

Benry stepped up, stuffing his hands into his pockets again as he stood in front of the player.

“Thanks for hanging out with me those times.” He muttered. “...I...don’t really want you to go.”

>...i don't wanna go, either. but...trust me. it's better this way. you guys have grown so much since the game, and you deserve a world that fits your level of awareness. i don't need to be a part of that.

“Yeah, but we’re friends, right?” Benry said with a frown.

>look, man, i TOLD you, it's better if you don't think of me that way. i tried to tell you not to get attached! it's just...not only do i not NEED to be a part of that, i just can't.

The player turned away, making a motion that Gordon was pretty sure meant he was wiping at his eyes before turning to Gordon.

>...gordon, you've grown a lot, too. but i guess i can't help but see myself in you way too much. so...you know. take care of them all. okay? and take care of yourself.

Gordon nodded slowly. “Yeah, dude. Of course.”

>so...let's talk shop, i guess. i can get your world all set up for you guys, the best i can, according to what you want. can i make a suggestion, though? you don't have to go with it if you don't want to.

“Yeah?”

>how do you guys feel about epilogues? y'know, since all of this has been visible for so long. i know there's kind of a split in how you guys feel about the audience, so i mean, you don't all have to do one if you don't want to. but you know. there's other people who care about you, too. and...i guess it would be nice, to be able to see how you guys are holding up afterward.

Gordon paused before nodding, looking at the rest of his friends. “Yeah. I mean, that makes sense to me. I think I’m good with that.”

The others all paused as well before nodding with varying levels of enthusiasm.

>ok! cool. i can set it up so you guys can choose to make something visible to the audience, for however long you choose. it's not CONTROL like it was before, just, passively making it visible. i mean, it shouldn't be a problem, you guys have already gotten so attuned to the program used to run this whole show. it shouldn't be a hard adjustment.

The group spent a while after that talking to the player about the desired logistics of their new world. It took a lot of back and forth, points where they got heavily sidetracked joking around, just finally getting the time to breathe after everything that had happened to them. Eventually, though, they had to get back on track, and their discussion was coming to an end.

>so...umm, how about the clones and skeletons?

Benry looked to the skeletons who had survived, and Dr. Coomer looked to the clones.

“I believe my clones and I are all in agreement that it’s best if we share a body.” Dr. Coomer said. “It’s wasn’t easy to live that way at first, but having spent some time returned with my recently deceased clone, it...gives us a sense of unity. We’re eager to all join back together and learn to cooperate with each other.”

>ok! yeah, i can join you all back together now, if you want.

Dr. Coomer looked to his clones. Bubby was currently sat between him and one of the clones, holding each of their hands as they leaned against Dr. Coomer’s shoulder. Bubby took the hint, though, giving them space for a moment. After a long, private moment shared between them, Dr. Coomer nodded.

“I’m ready.” He said.

In an instant, all the clones were gone. Dr. Coomer blinked, looking dazed for a long moment before looking down at his hands. He flexed his fingers in and out, then breathed out a deep, relieved sigh.

“Thank you.” Dr. Coomer said to the player.

>of course! what about you, benry?

Benry looked at the skeletons before shrugging.

“I dunno.” He said. “I don’t even really _know_ these guys. I had no idea they were all, like, _in there._ I got the Nihilanth back with me, I’ve always known that guy was in here, but like...damn. I’ve got a lot of dudes.”

“If I may, Benry...” Dr. Coomer said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you choose, I fully support. But if I’ve learned anything from my own experience, it’s that while being separated may really force you to take a harder look at what you’ve pushed away, there’s truly no reason for you all to _remain_ separate. They may feel like totally different people, sometimes, but you all share the same struggles and pain. It all contributes to who you are. I think it would be best if you rejoin, and take the time to get to know your parts a little better.”

Benry looked a little dazed by all that, turning to the skeletons. They all sat there, cross-legged around him, and looking at him closely. Uncertainly, Benry held a hand out to one of them.

“What’s up?” He asked him.

The skeleton didn’t seem to know how to respond. Benry patted his skull instead a couple times.

“I guess if they’re cool with it.” Benry said, looking around at them.

After a moment, the skeletons glancing around at each other, they all eventually nodded.

“Yeah, cool, let’s go.” Benry said to the player.

Just like the clones, suddenly, all the skeletons disappeared. Benry closed his eyes tight, shaking his head as if to clear it before opening his eyes again.

“Umm...can I ask something, before we go?” Tommy asked.

>yeah! of course.

“What’s gonna happen with G-Man?”

>oof. umm...he doesn't have to go with you guys. he can stay on my computer.

Tommy nodded slowly, biting his lip.

>i mean, it's your choice. he won't be able to take control of your narrative--there'll be no control to take, anymore. whatever you think is best.

Tommy crossed his arms. “Yeah. I don’t—I don’t think I...I don’t trust him. He’s given me—he gave us no reason to trust him at all. All he did was try to hurt us. He tried killing Gordon and Dr. Coomer, and—and he shot me, and...even if he can’t take control of reality, I just...he’s done too much to hurt us.”

>yeah. he was pretty fucked up in there. i guess he doesn't have to stay in prison if he's just on my computer alone, i can like, give him an enriching little world.

Tommy made a non-committal hand gesture. “What do you guys think?”

“Yeah, fuck that guy.” Gordon said, crossing his arms.

“I almost died because he decided to go on some stupid joyride with reality.” Bubby added. “Let him stay on the computer.”

“Will he fizzle out?” Tommy asked. “Like how—like how you said we would?”

>well, it'll at least take a longer time. part of it is like, there's so many of you that are self aware, and my computer can't run so many intensive ais at once. he'll have a while. for all intents and purposes, it's like he'll just end up dying, unless i ultimately move him somewhere else, too. i could totally put him in his own little reality like you guys.

Tommy nodded again. “...Y-...yeah. Okay. Whatever you, um...whatever you think is best, as long as he’s not with us.”

>so...i think that's all we needed to cover. umm...are you guys ready?

Gordon and the others all exchanged a look before nodding to each other.

“Yeah. I’m ready to take the _longest_ fucking nap.” Gordon said with an exhausted sigh, hugging Joshua close. “Ready to go home, bud?”

Joshua nodded sleepily against Gordon.

>okay. umm.

The player shifted a little, rubbing at his eyes again.

>i...guess this is goodbye for me. i'm really sorry about how things went with g-man.

“Thanks for everything else, dude.” Gordon said, miming placing his hand on his shoulder again. “Good luck with, ummm, reality shit or whatever it is you do.”

Benry shuffled a little closer to the player with a frown. “...Bye. Friend.”

The player didn’t technically have a voice, but even then, when he spoke next, it seemed sort of cracked and strained.

>bye, guys. ummm...have good lives. i love you all.

“...Goodbye, player.” Dr. Coomer replied.

Sunkist stood, nudging her head underneath where the player’s hands sort of floated. He mimed petting her, and even though he didn’t have a face, Gordon could swear he saw him smiling a little. Finally, after everyone had said goodbye, the player stood up tall and disappeared. Gordon looked to his family, who were glancing around nervously. Gordon reached for Benry’s hand, who squeezed his hand back. That started a chain effect, Benry reaching for Tommy, Tommy reaching for Darnold—soon, they were all holding each other’s hands tightly in a circle.

“Man, this is taking a minute.” Benry said.

Gordon and Dr. Coomer laughed a little.

“Yeah.” Gordon replied. “Umm—I love you guys. I’m excited to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Benry sang sweet voice in response. Gordon understood it, this time—he was saying he was happy to be there.

“Oh. Huh. I think I can understand the sweet voice now...?” Gordon said uncertainly.

>call it a parting gift.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
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	56. Darnold

>Umm...is this working?

>Oh. I guess it is! Hi, everyone.

>Uhh--to be honest, I didn't really think I was gonna do one of these things at first. I felt pretty weird about my whole life being shown and everything. Which isn't anything against you all, I hope you understand that. It just took a little bit to get used to the idea. And also wondering how many embarrassing moments were on display, haha...yeah. I guess I wouldn't go back to how it was still, though. It's complicated. Gordon had some more interesting thoughts on it that he can probably articulate a lot better, once he decides to do his thing.

>I guess I wanna say first, umm...thanks! Thanks for sticking with us. I guess it's pretty nice, thinking back in retrospect how there were people rooting for us. I remember I was watching a movie with Tommy recently, and that's when I sort of got it. I was screaming at the TV the whole time--I was a little bit tipsy for pretty much the first time ever, mind you--but feeling really intense about how badly I wanted things to end well. I got so PASSIONATE about it. And like...you know, it feels pretty nice to think that maybe some people were feeling the same way about me and my life with my family as I felt about that movie. That changed my perspective on things a little bit!

>So...let's see. I guess as a preliminary thing, it's worth noting that we all agreed that for our epilogues, we can essentially call a time when we all gather together for a meeting of the epiloguer's choice. I'M choosing mine to go camping!

>I've never gone camping before. It sounds like a lot of fun! Harold and Gordon have memories of having gone camping before, but it's a new experience for the rest of us, actually. I'm excited!

“Wait—no, no, Bubby, turn it around.” Gordon said, looking between a paper in his hands and the tent they were currently trying to set up.

“Are you _sure?_ ” Bubby asked flatly. “Are you absolutely certain? Are you _completely_ sure I have to turn it around?”

“Wh—yes! I’m not fucking with you, dude.”

“Give me that.” Bubby said, snapping the paper out of Gordon’s hand. After looking it over, they huffed. “ _Gordon._ It looks wrong because we fucked up step 3.”

“Wait, what?” Gordon stared at the paper, then stood, walking around the mess of a tent to get a good look at it. “...Oh. I see.”

“Do you two need any help?” Harold asked from a fold-out chair by the campfire, cooking some soup in a pot set up over the fire.

“It’s _fine,_ dear.” Bubby called back.

Harold snickered, turning back to stirring the pot.

“ _So,_ ” I said, setting out the little bottles I’d already prepared, “what color do you want first?”

“Green?” Joshua suggested.

“Okay, green.” I said, taking out the dye labeled green. “I know it looks orange, but once it dissolves, it’ll be green. So...”

I started mixing chemicals together, explaining the process to Josh as I went. It didn’t take long, glow stick stuff isn’t that complicated. It was still light out, so even after shaking up the bottle, it was sort of hard to tell, but Joshua was still excited. We _had_ actual glow sticks with us, too, but hey, I’m a man of science!

It wasn’t long after that Bubby and Gordon finally had finished setting up what was going to be Gordon and Joshua’s shared tent, and maybe Benry would be in there? I wasn’t too sure where Benry was sleeping, actually. It was a pretty big tent, so maybe. Or maybe he’d stay in the camper van with Harold and Bubby? That thing had more than one fold-out bed.

“Hey, guys. What’re you up to?” Gordon asked, sitting down beside Joshua as he shook his glow bottle more enthusiastically.

“Darnold made me a glow potion!” Joshua said with a grin, holding it up for Gordon to see.

Gordon squinted at it. “Oh hey, neat! We can keep that in our tent tonight. If it’ll last that long, right?”

“Yeah, these ones last extra long, so I’m mixing ‘em now while it’s still light out.” I told him, beginning to mix up another one. “You want one?”

“Yeah, sure!”

“What color?”

Gordon indicated to his orange shirt. “Take a wild guess.”

I laughed, starting to mix an orange one. “Good pick, Dr. Freeman.”

“Thank you _very_ much, Dr. Pepper.” Gordon said with a dramatic tone.

“ _Dr. Pepper?_ ” Joshua giggled. “That’s your name?”

“It is!” I replied with a smile. “Just like the soda, huh?”

As Joshua was cracking up about my name—absolutely adorable—the car Tommy and I drove in with pulled back up. Tommy hopped out of the driver’s seat, Benry and Sunkist following and helping Tommy pull out some of the extra things we’d needed to pick up. Tommy and Sunkist pulled out bags of groceries full of more sensitive cold foods we hadn’t wanted to risk driving in with while Benry pulled out extra logs to set out by the campfire. Once Tommy was done putting the food away in coolers, he sat down beside me, nudging my shoulder a little with his own as he did.

“Hi, Tommy.” I greeted with a smile.

“Hi.” Tommy replied, looking at the little flasks in front of us. “Can I get a yellow one?”

“Yellow? No way.” I said in mock surprise as I pull out the yellow dye. “Nope. You get...red.”

“You’re so mean to me.” Tommy sighed dramatically, leaning against my shoulder as I put in a pinch of red—just like with the green, though, that was just the color of the dye in its solid state, it would become yellow once I was done with it.

I snorted, risking giving his head a quick kiss as I finished up his glow potion. We’re both not that great with PDA, generally, but we’d been sort of working our way up to being more affectionate around our friends. It wasn’t like we were the only ones—looking over, I could see Bubby and Harold in the middle of a play-fight. Does half-wrestling, half-boxing count as PDA?

Well, it certainly does for _them,_ I think.

“Can we do marshmallows now?” Joshua asked, not for the first time since arriving at the campsite.

“Nooooo, bud.” Gordon groaned a little, picking up Joshua and sitting him on his lap. “Dude. I know you’re excited, but it’s gonna be a lot more fun after dinner, when it’s dark out. Can you wait a little longer for me?”

Joshua didn’t look pleased, crossing his arms and pouting, but he finally nodded after a moment.

“Hey, guys.” A familiar voice called from the road. I looked up, smiling at the sight of Alyx.

“Hey, Alyx.” I greeted. She was joined by her dad shortly after—the Lambda team (AKA, the Half Life 2 guys and their Gordon) was staying in a campsite not too far off from ours. “How goes setting up your camp?”

“Pretty good! Barney broke one of his tent poles on accident, but Gordon got it figured out.” Alyx replied.

“We were wondering if we could borrow some glow sticks. _Izzy_ forgot to pack ours.” Eli added.

“Oh, yeah, sure. You can just steal mine from my car, _or..._ ” I said, nodding to the potion I’d just made for Tommy. “I’m not running out of this stuff any time soon.”

Eli laughed, approaching with Alyx to lean against the table and pick up one of the little bottles. “Wow, you don’t slow down with the chemistry, do you?”

“It’s _potions._ ” I corrected him, putting on a serious tone, but I’m mostly joking around. “You want one? There’s enough glowing potions to go around.”

“Yeah, sure!” Alyx said with a smile.

I mixed them a couple bottles to go back to their camp with. I like Eli and Alyx a lot—the Science Team are all my family for sure, but Eli being sort of, _almost_ an alternate reality version of me makes them feel pretty close in a different way. I sort of consider them, like, a brother and a niece to me, which has just solidified more once I got to know them a little better. It’s nice, having so many people I can call a friend or family. Even my mom, just because of how the player messed things up, didn’t really feel like she was _real._ And I guess, in a sense, she doesn’t even technically exist, outside my vague memories of her. Really messed up.

But I’ve got all of these people. And I have the choice to see what I want to see, and do what I want to do. Not only do I see myself as about as real as can be, the world around me matches that. It feels solid, everything exists regardless of Gordon’s proximity to it, things go on and happen regardless of what we’re doing—Eli, Alyx, and all their friends are out there living their own lives whether we’re really tuned into it or not! It’s really, really good, knowing we’re not the center of our whole world.

“How did your finals go, by the way, Darnold?” Eli asked, sitting down on the edge of the bench.

“Good!” I replied, starting to mix a blue one for Benry, who was currently sneaking sips of the soup while Harold and Bubby were distracted. “It sucks going back to school, honestly, but it’s gonna be worth it. I think teaching will be really fun.”

I paused as I felt a small _drip_ on my forearm. Looking up, the clouds had really accumulated since I’d last spared the sky a glance.

“Oh, man. I’d better get these packed up.” I sighed, quickly closing up the bottles. “I can finish them up in the camper van, probably.”

As I was closing up the bottles, the rain began to pour down a little more.

“Aww! The weather forecast said it wasn’t going to rain.” Alyx complained. “Oh well. Let’s get back to camp, dad. We’d better help Gordon and Barney.”

“Thanks for the potions, Darnold.” Eli said kindly as Alyx helped him stand, picking up the bottles I’d mixed for them.

“Of course! Come back if you need more.” I replied, scooping up the rest of the bottles in my arms.

“Oh, dear, the soup!” Harold said, fumbling to cover the pot.

We all scrambled to get everything under cover. I dropped all my potions stuff off in the camper van—it was gonna be easier to finish them all up with a table than to do that inside a tent—and helped Tommy bring in the coolers as well. Soon, we were all packed inside the camper van, Harold assessing the damage done to the soup on the little stovetop in the kitchenette.

“I think it’ll be fine.” Harold ended up saying, tasting the soup. “It was only a _little_ rainwater.”

“What difference does it make? Water’s water. Soup’s got water in it.” Benry said.

“Yeah, but like, _extra_ water will dilute the soup, dude.” Gordon pointed out, squeezing his hair in a towel.

“Extra nutrients, man.”

“ _What?_ ”

“What about the marshmallows?” Joshua whined.

“I’m sorry, bud, we can’t do it if it’s raining.” Gordon sighed, putting a sympathetic hand on his son’s shoulder.

Joshua crossed his arms, staring down at the floor angrily. Bubby huffed and lit a controlled flame in their palm.

“Here. You can roast marshmallows like this, if you want.” Bubby offered.

Joshua’s face lit up. “Yeah!”

“ _After_ dinner.” Gordon reminded him.

“Is it done yet?” Joshua asked, tugging on Harold’s sleeve.

“Just about!” Harold replied, lifting up a spoonful to taste test. “Yup, that about does it. Bubby, dear, would you get the bowls out, please?”

Bubby got the bowls out as requested, and we all sat around awkwardly in the limited space inside the camper van. It really wasn’t meant to seat so many people this way, with the table out, but Tommy and I sat down on the floor where we could find the space. A little uncomfortable, but that was fine. Tommy looped his arm around mine once he was done eating.

“Sorry it started raining during your epilogue.” Tommy said to me.

I snorted. “It’s fine! I don’t mind. We’re all still here together. That’s all I really wanted.”

“Yeah, hopefully it’ll stop by tomorrow.” Gordon added.

Eventually, after dinner and roasting marshmallows over Bubby, it grew to be pretty late. We all returned to our respective tents—Benry staying in the camper van, like I’d thought. Tommy and I, in our tent with Sunkist, had laid out a bunch of thick blankets rather than sleeping bags; that swishy sleeping bag material is a bad sound for Tommy. We settled into the blankets together, Sunkist trying to nudge her way between us like always.

“Sunkist, can I _please_ cuddle my boyfriend?” I asked her seriously.

Sunkist huffed and stepped out of the way. I patted her backside as she moved, Tommy laughing and kissing her muzzle before nuzzling against my chest. Sunkist settled to curl up above our heads, licking the side of my face as I tried to get comfortable. I couldn’t help but laugh, patting her head.

“Sunkist! Come on.” I complained.

“She’s still not used to sharing—umm, having a third person in our sleeping space, I guess.” Tommy pointed out.

“That’s fair.” I replied, running my fingers through Tommy’s soft hair. “Thanks for agreeing to the camping trip, Tommy.”

“Of course.” Tommy replied.

We laid there, listening to the sound of rain pouring down on our tents. It was sort of grating at first, to be honest, but as Tommy dozed off, I started to get a little more used to it, combined with his and Sunkist’s gentle snoring. I could sort of hear a ruckus from the camper van, too; I guessed Harold, Bubby, and Benry decided to stay up a little later, and probably drink, by the sounds of it. I was glad everyone seemed to be having fun, despite the rain. Finally, I ended up dozing off, too.

****

“Benry! Get down from there!” Gordon shouted loudly.

Benry was currently sat on a tall cliff up above the hiking trail, legs dangling over the ledge. “Whuh...?”

“You’re supposed to stay on the trail, man!” Gordon called up. “Also, you could—”

We all heard a _crack,_ and the ledge Benry was sat on crumbled beneath him. Benry made a surprised noise, disappearing mid-air and reappearing on the ground. The crumbled rock crashed to the ground beside him.

“ _Dude!_ ” Gordon said, pressing his hands against his temples.

“Whoops.” Benry muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Stick to the trail, man.” Gordon said, patting Benry’s back. Benry immediately disappeared, reappearing further up on the trail as he crouched down to look at something on the ground.

I was trying not to sound too winded, but man, I’m not all that used to long-distance walks. My exercise pretty much begins and ends with boxing with Harold. I held Tommy’s hand in one hand, using the other for a cane as I walked—I don’t always need it, but after that bullet wound, I usually end up using it on longer walks like this. I felt Tommy squeeze my hand.

“You getting tired?” He asked me.

“Little bit.” I admitted. “But I don’t wanna take a break, yet, if everyone else is good. Let’s—”

I paused as I heard shouting behind me. We all stopped, looking behind us as we saw Alyx appear on the trail, running at a full sprint and laughing. Their Gordon appeared shortly after, eventually followed by Barney. Alyx flew past us, shouting, “hi, ‘scuse us!” Gordon waved as he went by as well, Barney pausing once he met with our group to double over and put his hands to his knees.

“Man. I can hardly keep up with those two.” He panted.

“Yo!” Benry greeted, appearing beside Barney. Barney jumped in surprise, then sighed.

“Hey, Benry.” He replied.

“If you want, I can, uhhh...” Benry nodded up ahead on the trail. “Take you to the finish line.”

Barney laughed and shook his head. “Nahh, they’re gonna run out of steam eventually. Slow ‘n steady wins the race, right?”

Benry replied by singing sweet voice into Barney’s face. Barney closed his eyes, making the same face someone might make if they hated a dog licking their face, but didn’t have the heart to push them away. After shaking his head as if he were clearing it, Barney stood back up straight and waved goodbye to everyone, jogging down the path after his friends.

“Good luck, Barney!” Harold called.

“Go, Gordon!” Our Gordon cheered loudly down the path.

We all continued along the path at a much more leisurely pace, Gordon clearly getting a little antsy with how slow the rest of us were taking it. He’s got an unfair advantage, though, with his constant morning jogs he always goes on. He, Josh, Sunkist and Harold ended up walking up a little ahead of us while Tommy, Benry, Bubby and I kind of hung back together. Bubby seemed a little bit hungover, as opposed to Harold and Benry—I don’t think Benry actually _can_ get hungover? I’ve never _seen_ him hungover, and Harold must’ve been more careful. Eventually, we all made it to the part of the trail we were trying to get to—a little riverbank to hang out on for a bit before hiking back out to our campsite.

Everyone else who went ahead were all already there. Barney sat on the riverbank as the Lambda Gordon stood in a shallow part of the river with Alyx, both sifting through the sand to find anything interesting. Joshua was sitting on a rock near them, trying desperately to skip small rocks that our Gordon handed him. Sunkist barked as she pranced back to Tommy, nudging her head underneath Tommy’s free hand. Bubby immediately sat down beside Harold on the sand, leaning against his shoulder and closing their eyes.

I sat down as well to take a break as Tommy stepped into the water, too, joined immediately by Sunkist. Sunkist barked excitedly while Tommy searched for cool rocks, depositing the ones he liked right next to me. Finally, after I’d regained my strength, I took my shoes off and joined him in the water.

“There aren’t a lot of fish in here, are there—” I started to ask, immediately yelping in surprise when something brushed past my leg.

Tommy laughed, handing me a rock he’d found. “There are, you just—you just need to look out for them.”

Hearing a loud splash and Alyx gasping, I looked over to where she and Lambda Gordon were standing. Gordon was now holding a fish in his bare hands, looking halfway between accomplished and surprised.

“What, did you catch us lunch?” Barney asked with a laugh.

Gordon pressed his lips into a thin line, clearly uncertain of what to do next.

“Well—don’t just stand there with it, either take care of it or put it back!” Alyx scolded.

Gordon released it back into the water before signing back at them. “I saw it right next to me and didn’t even think about it.”

Our Gordon laughed at that. “Dude, your impulse control is worse than mine.”

I felt bad for the fish, but I couldn’t help but laugh, too. I watched the fish continue down the river, carefully moving around Benry further down, who was laying face-down in the water.

“You okay, Benry?” Tommy called.

Benry looked up, water dripping down from his face. “Huh?”

“Do you like—do you need to breathe?” Gordon called.

“What? Yeah, no.” Benry called back. “I’m just chilling, bro. Just vibing.”

Benry put his face back in the water. It wasn’t that deep where he was, so we could still see most of him pretty clearly, but his trademark hoodie, hat, and sweatpants were all getting totally soaked.

Eventually, I’d had enough of hanging out in the water and sat back down in the sand beside Harold and Bubby. Tommy was still in the water with Benry, joined by our Gordon, who was currently getting splashed repeatedly by Benry and Joshua.

“How are you enjoying the trip so far?” Harold asked me.

“It’s good!” I replied with a smile. “I’m having a lot of fun. I don’t know how, like, fulfilling of an epilogue this is or anything, it’s just kind of an excuse to get everyone together for a fun trip.”

“You didn’t need an _excuse_ for that.” Bubby pointed out, pushing their prescription sunglasses up on their face.

“Well, you know. We’re all pretty busy these days, for the most part.” I said with a sigh. “I’ve got my classes, Tommy and Gordon are working again, Benry’s usually busy with his projects...we don’t get to get together as much as we used to.”

“Yeah.” Bubby muttered. “It _does_ take some coordination these days.”

“Well, yes, you all are fairly busy.” Harold agreed with a nod. “But isn’t it beautiful? The way we get to live such genuine lives, finding fulfillment in exciting careers or projects, and the way we’ll all always be here for each other?”

“You don’t _have_ a career.” Bubby chastised.

“Retirement with _you_ is fulfilling enough to me.” Harold said with a fond smile.

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, it’s a lot nicer this way, having things to aspire to and routines to follow. I thought I was gonna go wild before—even the potions shop ended up being a little monotonous after a while. I don’t know if teaching will get boring to me, too, but...well, you know. At least we don’t live in a capitalist hellhole, anymore. A career change wouldn’t be quite so devastating.”

“You have all the time in the world to explore!” Harold said, punching me in the shoulder playfully.

I punched him back, which, you know, you can’t just punch Harold without instigating a play fight. He broke away from Bubby instantly to tackle me down to the ground. I tried to push him off of me, but he was apparently not intent on going easy on me this time.

“Okay, okay!” I shout with a laugh. “You win!”

Harold cackled loudly and let me go. Still laughing, I sat back up, looking to Tommy. Gordon, Benry, and Joshua were currently combining their efforts to dunk Tommy in the water, but Tommy was completely unfazed, somehow, just looking at them all in amusement. Finally, he grabbed Gordon by his shirt and pushed him in, soaking him from head to toe in river water. Gordon sat up, looking dazed as he readjusted his glasses on his face. Tommy snickered, holding his hand out for Gordon to take. Gordon took it as Benry positioned himself behind Tommy, and with their combined efforts while Tommy’s guard was down, they both got Tommy down in the water, too. I laughed as Tommy sat up and shook water off himself, Benry pulling his camera seemingly out of nowhere to take pictures of Tommy, then everyone else.

“How are things with Tommy?” Bubby asked curiously.

Heat rushed to my face. “What? Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m nosy! What else do you think?” Bubby said flatly.

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit at that. “Okay, yeah. Well, umm, things are good! M-maybe it’s, ummm...a little early, but...honestly, I can really see myself spending the rest of my life with him. You know? That’s not just _him,_ even, in a romantic sense, it’s just...all of you guys. You’re all my best friends. It feels like a dream come true, waking up every day knowing I get to have you guys as my family.”

Harold grinned at me, pulling me in to hug me close. “I completely agree, Darnold! I’m so happy you’re here with us.”

“Yeah.” Bubby agreed, awkwardly reaching around Harold to pat my upper arm. “It, um, wouldn’t...be the same without you.”

“Oh, god, you guys are too nice to me.” I laughed anxiously.

Eventually, we all returned to the campsite, had dinner with the Lambda team, and finally roasted marshmallows over a real campfire, to Joshua’s great excitement. It was a lot of fun that way; we recounted stories from each of our experiences from our own realities before we merged together. Lambda team Gordon told us about how the resonance cascade was “supposed” to go, but seemed infinitely more interested with our experiences with it. And boy, do we have stories to tell about _that._ It sort of grew a little more serious after a bit, given the subject matter, but it was still a pretty fulfilling conversation to be sharing with them. Sharing the ways our realities ended up hurting us, having solidarity in being grateful we get to live the lives we do now—I liked that a lot. Even Bubby ended up sharing a little bit about their life in Black Mesa, which was incredibly rare—they normally get understandably put off any time it’s brought up.

Before I knew it, it had grown dark out, and some were already exhausted. The group began to trickle off, heading back to respective tents to turn in for the night. I was getting ready to turn in myself when Tommy took me by the wrist.

“Hey.” He said gently.

“Hey.” I repeated with a sleepy smile.

“Um...wanna go hang out somewhere else for a few? Just us? And Sunkist.” Tommy suggested. “I can just—we don’t have to walk. I saw this vantage point while we were hiking that—I think it would be fun to sit there for a little bit.”

I nodded. “Oh, yeah! Sure. That sounds fun, but umm—I thought you didn’t want to use your powers outside work.”

Tommy shrugged. “Only for work, emergencies, and special occasions. It’s your epilogue! That’s—I think that’s special.”

“Alright, true. That’s fair.” I said, picking up my jacket. “Let’s go.”

Tommy opened up a doorway, still holding onto my wrist as we walked through the void to the place he’d picked out. The void was different than it had been, on the player’s computer—according to Tommy, it was the “real void”, which apparently was an important distinction. There had been G-Man’s void, which technically existed “between” physical space, and the player’s void, beneath all the maps—this was closer to G-Man’s void. Except, of course, it was now Tommy’s void.

Tommy sat down cross-legged, sort of close to the edge of a cliff, but not close enough to pose the same danger Benry had faced earlier in the day. I sat down beside him, Tommy immediately leaning against me and looking out at the desert below us with a satisfied sigh while Sunkist laid down beside Tommy. I wrapped an arm around him, leaning my head against his. He’s taller than me, so it was sort of awkward until he repositioned himself a little bit to make it work better.

“This has been fun.” Tommy said. “I think it was a good pick for your epilogue.”

I snorted, running my fingers through his hair again. “Yeah? That’s good. I was saying to Harold and Bubby earlier, I just wanted to take the opportunity to do something fun with all of us together again.”

“Yeah! I mean, exactly, right?” Tommy pointed out. “It’s—it’s good to get us all together for an epilogue. You, umm—I mean, from my perspective, it feels like you really found your place with us. You know? So that’s good.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so.” I said thoughtfully. “I guess I don’t feel as weird, considering myself a part of the group.”

Tommy nodded against my shoulder, not saying anything else. We just sat there for a while, looking up at the sky. It was a little cloudy, making stargazing a little difficult, but hey, I’ll take it. You can only see so many perfectly clear nights in a computerized world before you start to miss the clouds.

We sat there for a long time, just enjoying each other’s presence, before I started to get a little too tired to keep my eyes open. I told Tommy as much, and we headed back to the campsite.

“Yo.” Benry called.

I looked around, not seeing him anywhere. “Uhh—hey. Where are you?” I asked.

Benry sat up on top of the camper van. “Where’d you guys go?”

“Just out.” Tommy replied vaguely. There wasn’t really much else to say, anyway. “G’night, Benry.”

“Are you really sleeping up there?” I asked him as Tommy headed to our tent.

“Yeah, man. No rain. I’m one with nature and all.” Benry said, a playful smile spreading on his face. “You don’t get to see shit if you’re in a tent.”

“Well, yeah, but I also don’t get bugs crawling all over me.” I pointed out with a laugh.

“Coward. Don’t even like the bugs.” Benry huffed, laying back down. “Night, guys.”

“G’night.” I said before ducking down into the tent to join Tommy.

“Well...we’re going back home after tonight.” Tommy pointed out as we got settled together. “Umm—is this gonna be the end of your epilogue?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I guess I don’t really feel like I need to show anything else.”

Tommy nodded as well. “Okay. Um...so...do you—do you have anything else to say to the audience? Before it ends?”

“Ummmm...” I put my hand to my chin. “Thanks for watching?”

Tommy snorted.

“I don’t know what else to say!” I replied defensively, laughing along with him. “Um...for really good hot chocolate, you should chop up and melt a chocolate bar. You can do that in the microwave, but if you go for stovetop, use a double broiler, or put some water in a pot and fit a heat-proof bowl over the pot, so the heat from the hot water will rise up to the bowl and melt it without burning it. Heat up milk— _milk,_ not water—in a saucepan and add the melted chocolate once it’s hot enough to get those little bubbles around the edges. Powdered hot chocolate made with water is evil hot chocolate.”

Tommy giggled. “Okay, um—I’m sure they’ll love the hot chocolate tips.”

I couldn’t help but laugh again. “I don’t know, I’m under a lot of pressure right now.”

Tommy cupped my face in his hand. “That’s okay. It doesn’t matter too much, since—I mean, as long as you’ve had a good time.”

I nod, putting my hand to his to press it against my face a little more. “Yeah. I have.”

Tommy and I just spent a moment of comfortable silence looking at each other. I can never quite help but get mesmerized by his beautiful, glowing eyes. I’m so, so lucky. He’s probably the sweetest guy I could possibly ask for, and something about the fact that this world is filled with more people just as real as we are really adds something to that. They’re just as real as us, but none of them are gonna be as special as Tommy is to me. I leaned in to kiss him, and it was a long, quiet, perfect moment before we pull away again. I was about to say something romantic to Tommy, but I was interrupted by Sunkist, stuffing her face between me and Tommy to lick me.

“Okay! I love you too, Sunkist, I promise!” I said to her, nudging her face down to give her a kiss. “See?”

Sunkist barked once before laying back down. Tommy giggled again, wiping her saliva off my face with his sleeve.

“Goodnight, Darnold.” He said, nuzzling in close to me again and closing his eyes.

I let out a content sigh, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around him. This is a good way to let things end, I think.

“Goodnight, Tommy.”


	57. Bubby

>So, it's my turn now.

>I wasn't sure at first what felt appropriate for an epilogue, or how badly I wanted to do one. I thought about it a little bit over the couple of years we've been out of the computer, but I've never enjoyed viewing my life as a narrative in order to figure out what feels like an appropriate culmination of everything I've been through. Even if that's what it technically is due to the way our reality was for so long, that doesn't mean I like trying to view it from that lens.

>Darnold was on the right track, just using his epilogue for something he thought would be fun. I started trying to view it from that perspective, instead, but I haven't been very good at calling for us all to meet up again. Harold normally does that, and I've typically been fine with letting things happen that way. I don't...

>Well. Actually, I'm not too keen on spending 20 minutes spilling my guts here. You've heard enough of my internal monologues. There's no reason to go in-depth on the intricacies of my rejection sensitive dysphoria or whatever else contributes to the way I act around other people. You probably get the picture already.

>I guess, though, I don't mind so much, allowing you all to just see a day in my life, if there's anything I'm going to show. That feels right, if you're so curious about how I've chosen to live after everything that happened. There's no need to go complex for it. If it's boring...sorry, I guess? Beggars can't be choosers.

I always wake up first, before Harold. Harold has a tendency to sleep in—always has, even when we had a schedule to adhere to in Black Mesa. I can’t count how many times he ended up late to work. He’s a _deep_ sleeper, too, so it’s always easy to slip out of bed without waking him. I laid in bed for a little while longer this morning, though, watching the particles of dust inches from my face float in and out of the light spilling in from the window above us. The cat we’ve adopted has a laser focus on when I wake up, immediately standing from the center of the bed between Harold and me to stand on my chest and paw at my face. I nudged her paw away and stroked her head gently. She’s an old cat, previously named “Mama Pancake” by the shelter, but when Harold gave _me_ the responsibility of choosing an official name, I never thought of anything, so now she just has a thousand nicknames. The cat meowed at me urgently as Harold snored beside me, having taken off his CPAP mask in his sleep again. Part of why he tends to sleep in so much, certainly. I reached over him, taking the mask he’d carelessly pulled off and nudging at his head to pull it back on over his face. He stirred, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes as I managed to get it on. He took my hand to pull me in, wrapping his big arms around me and knocking my face against his mask uncomfortably.

“Harold, I was about to get up.” I told him.

Harold has to use one of those masks that fits over his whole face, rather than just his nose, so he couldn’t actually reply to me easily. He responded non-verbally by holding me a little tighter. I sighed, giving in and settling back down for a few minutes with him, despite the cat’s protests. He fell asleep pretty fast, at least, allowing me to nudge out of his grip and climb out of bed.

I started my day as I always do. I started a pot of coffee, gave the cat her pain medicine for her joints, took my own for the same reason, and fed her before heading back up the stairs to take a quick shower, leaving the door open for the cat to walk in and sit on the toilet cover while she waited for me to finish. Once I was done, I went back down to pour myself some coffee and sit down in front of the TV for a few minutes, watching the local news with the cat on my lap. Nothing too exciting going on, apparently. There was a heartwarming story about a kid whose life was saved by an antlion or something—and yes, _those_ antlions, like from Half Life 2, we decided to retain alien life on our planet. Probably dramatizing the situation, though. Antlion behavior doesn’t really line up with just suddenly giving a damn about human kids, but humans always have a tendency to anthropomorphize, so there it was on the news. I finished off my coffee and headed into the room where I keep all my tanks; I’ve been keeping some coral these days, along with some types of fish. I spent a while tending to those before heading back to the kitchen to clean up the rest of the pots and pans Harold and I had left to soak overnight after dinner. I was shaking the water off my hands when I heard the _click_ of the front door unlocking.

“Hey, Bubby!” Gordon called into the house.

I dried my hands off before stepping out of the kitchen, watching Gordon kick off his shoes before coming into the house. He always drops by after his morning jog, which is sort of annoying in the fact that he’s still sweaty and gross, but I guess it’s nice to have this as part of our daily ritual. I handed him a bottle of water from our fridge without prompting while the cat pawed at Gordon for attention.

“Hey, thanks, man.” Gordon said, taking a moment to chug before settling down and giving the cat the attention she demanded. “How’s it going this morning?”

“It’s alright.” I replied, pouring out a second cup of coffee for myself before sitting down as well. “I’m doing my epilogue today.”

“Oh! Huh. Did you have anything special planned?” Gordon asked curiously.

I shook my head. “No. I couldn’t think of anything. I figured just a regular day would be good enough.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” Gordon said, sipping at his water again.

“How’s your morning?” I asked him.

Gordon shrugged. “Y’know. Same as it ever was, right? I’m gonna be streaming, uhh, ‘Nalf’s Klife’ in a few hours.”

I crinkled my nose a little bit. “Is that the newest game Benry made?”

Gordon snorted. “Yeah. Why, you have any spoilers for me from playtesting?”

I shook my head. “Even if I wanted to, I would _not_ be able to describe to you what you’re in for. Have fun.”

“Oh, boy. Okay.” Gordon said, brushing back loose hair that had come out from his ponytail. “You wanna be a guest on my stream today? Or did you have other plans?”

I made a non-committal noise. “Maybe some other time.” I half-lied. I’m sure eventually I’ll finally join in on one of his streams since he keeps asking, but for now, I’m not that interested in participating. “I’m going to the lab in a little bit to help with the improved warp system.”

“Alright. Well, let me know whenever you wanna join me.” Gordon said with a shrug. “Good luck at the lab today. I’m gonna go get in a shower and some cleaning before my stream starts.”

“Okay. See you later, Gordon.”

“Bye, Bubby.” Gordon said, standing and squeezing my shoulder before heading back to the front door. “Tell everyone I said hi, by the way!”

“Sure.”

After finishing off my second cup of coffee, I headed back up the stairs to sit down on the edge of the bed, shaking Harold’s shoulder. “Harold. I’m leaving for the lab soon, if you want to come with me.”

Harold groaned, trying to rub his face, but he was still half asleep, so he just ended up slapping at his mask uncoordinated. He pulled it off with a sigh, turning over in bed to look at me with a sleepy smile. It’s...well, you all know how I feel about him.

“Give me just a moment.” Harold murmured, laying on his back and rubbing at his eyes.

I stood up and left the room. I could have given him a little longer, technically, but it’s always best to start his waking up process sooner rather than later. I had to go wake him up a second time after about 20 minutes, and by then, he was finally up. He got himself ready relatively quickly, pouring some coffee out into a thermos to have on the way. I drove us there to let Harold enjoy his coffee—I have a driver’s license now, officially, but Gordon always says I shouldn’t for some reason.

Once we arrived at the lab, Harold and I headed inside and pulled our lab coats on. It feels good to get back into a lab from time to time, when we’re needed; I don’t spend too much of my time here like many of the rest do, but my interest in their project always draws me back in. We were greeted first by a vortigaunt in a distinctive lab coat—my friend, who, for some ungodly reason, decided to go by the name Earl.

“You’ve made it!” Earl said with a smile, leaning into their cane with one claw and holding a clipboard in the other. “Everyone will be most pleased. We have eagerly awaited your help.”

“Hello, Earl! It’s very good to see you.” Harold greeted kindly, squeezing their upper arm.

“How has it been going?” I asked them as we headed further into the lab. Already, I could hear Dr. Magnusson on one of his snippy rants, which brought out a quiet, annoyed sigh from Harold.

“Development on the warp drive has reached somewhat of a plateau.” Earl told us as we entered the official lab. Everyone with a penchant for science was in the lab, already; Lambda Gordon, Eli and Alyx, Kleiner, Magnusson, Mossman, and even Tommy, who had become a more official member of their team in the past couple years. Barney was there, too, as the head of building security, but tended to hang out in the lab more than was strictly necessary. Being in a lab setting with Harold and Tommy was sort of nostalgic; I don’t miss Black Mesa even a little bit, but I _do_ enjoy working on projects with them.

I immediately turned when I heard skittering and chirping in the corner, just in time to see Lamarr leaping up towards me with a screech. I caught her in my arms easily.

“Hello, Lamarr.” I greeted, scratching the top of her head gently.

I put her down gently after Harold got a turn greeting her, letting her skitter off to terrorize Barney. Tommy approached us with an eager smile on his face, holding a clipboard close to his chest.

“Hi!” He greeted. “We were—umm, we were just about to get started, you’re right on time.”

“So, what’s the problem with it?” I asked curiously, watching Kleiner climb down from a set of rolling steps that led up to the suspended drive system. Magnusson was on the other side, climbing down from a similar staircase.

“Ah, good morning, Dr. Coomers.” Kleiner greeted politely. Harold got a big grin on his face—he always does, whenever someone reminds him we share the last name, now, even though that was a thing even before we got married. I’d needed a last name for my official paperwork after leaving Black Mesa, and it just felt like the right choice at the time. I guess it adds a new level to it, now that we’re actually married.

We got right into work, Kleiner filling me and Harold in on the problems they were facing with the drive. Now that we all live peacefully on a safe planet with Half Life 2 alien life integrated into the ecosystem, the Lambda team became interested in creating a new means of space exploration—since recreating the local teleport system didn’t take very long. Currently, they were trying to build efficient, quick methods of space travel without using the same means used to collect samples from Xen back in Black Mesa. Their current attempt was using their warp drive to tear through into Tommy’s void and back out through another point in space—making Tommy an invaluable help to their research. They already had something that could create a “doorway” of its own into the void, but they were hoping to make the product so far more compact and efficient.

It was intended to be an actual ship, allowing a safe bubble for physically traveling to other places in space with all the materials necessary for exploration and research. The ship itself would be the easy part; they already knew plenty about spaceships. It was the warp drive that was the issue so far.

Harold and I took a look at their drive and the most recent readings on Tommy’s doorway, spending a long time tossing ideas around on alternate fuel possibilities we could use to charge the drive while our Gordon’s livestream played on Lambda Gordon’s computer for background noise. It felt good, plunging myself back into something with hard numbers and complicated science.

I won’t bore you with the details of the science, though, as I’m sure you all wouldn’t understand it, anyway. Eventually, we broke for lunch; I had wanted to work through the generally agreed upon lunch hour with Kleiner—he’s a bit of a pushover, but otherwise, I admire his passion for science—but Tommy and Harold dragged me along to eat lunch at a little sandwich shop nearby the lab that Tommy enjoyed. It was the type with very little seating, so we walked to a park close by to eat together instead. My mind was still racing over the warp drive as I ate, but Harold knows the look I get when I’m overthinking things and nudged me with his elbow.

“Did Bubby tell you today is their epilogue, Tommy?” Harold asked.

“Oh! No, they didn’t.” Tommy said through a mouthful of his food. He swallowed his food hastily to speak again. “What inspired you to do it today?”

I just shrugged. “I didn’t think there was going to be any big moment or trip or anything that felt ‘right’. I thought a regular day would be just as good as anything else.”

Tommy nodded in understanding. “Yeah. That—that makes sense. Umm...you’re interested in when the—when the drive is done, right?”

It took me a second to understand what Tommy was asking, but once I got it, I nodded. “Once it’s done, I’d be very interested to do some space travel. Right, Harold?”

Harold nodded. “I think it would be fun to take part in a couple exploration trips!”

Tommy smiled at us. “Nice! I, umm...yeah, I’ve been interested in exploring, too. Finding out if I could ever connect to where I come from, without my dad. But I don’t...wanna do that alone.”

“Of course. I’ve always wanted to go to space—but for real, of course, not like when I went outside the map during the game.” I said, crossing my arms thoughtfully. “Do you have anything in mind for the first trip?”

“Umm—not yet. Maybe we’d test it out by going to the moon or Mars first.” Tommy said thoughtfully, leaning his head into his palm. “Does that sound interesting to you?”

“Well, of course!” Harold said enthusiastically. “I never thought I would have the opportunity to go to the _moon!_ ”

“Ehh, it’s already been done.” I muttered dismissively. “Sure, it sounds good as a test run, but I’d like to go somewhere new.”

Tommy laughed. “Of course we’ll go somewhere new eventually. That’s part of—I mean, that’s the whole point.”

We headed back to the lab on our own time once we were done eating; the benefit of working outside the constraints of a money-making company is not necessarily having a strict schedule, aside from what Dr. Magnusson insisted on. He _did_ get on our case a little about being “late”, but he’s not me or Harold’s boss, and Tommy could run circles around him with his knowledge of alternate dimensions and physics, so who cares? We brushed him off and got back to work, and by the time the end of the day rolled by, I was pretty sure we had a good model for making a couple changes to the drive to improve fuel efficiency. Alyx and Eli headed home first, the rest of us sticking around a little longer to get things set up for easy alterations to the drive in the morning.

“Oh, damn. Darnold’s gonna be home any minute.” Tommy suddenly said as he set down a box on one of the free tables. “I was gonna—I was gonna make pasta, but...well, I guess we can just order pizza.”

“Oh, Tommy, why don’t you, Sunkist, and Darnold join me and Bubby for dinner?” Harold suggested.

Tommy nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure! Umm, I’ll just head home first and change and everything, and ask Darnold if he has the energy for it.”

“Why don’t we invite Gordon, Joshua, and Benry as well?” Harold asked me thoughtfully. “It _is_ your epilogue night. It could be nice!”

“Sure.” I said, adjusting my glasses on my face. “Maybe we could have curry?”

“That sounds wonderful.” Harold said before turning back to Tommy. “Just call and let us know how you and Darnold are feeling.”

“Okay. See you in a little bit.” Tommy replied as he headed out to his car.

As I drove us back home in our own car, Harold called Gordon and Benry, asking how they felt about dinner. It seemed by the time we got home, we’d have everyone over. We changed out of our work clothes before starting on dinner together. I’ve gotten better at cooking to other people’s standards, so Harold didn’t hover over my shoulder quite as much while I cooked the meat. We intended to make a lot of it to send everyone home with leftovers as they began to trickle into our house at their own leisure. Benry arrived first, appearing directly behind me and leaning over my shoulder.

“Don’t touch it.” I told him immediately.

Benry drew his hand away.

“Hello, Benry!” Harold greeted. “Would you like a drink while you wait?”

“Yeah, sure.” Benry replied.

“We have, umm...” I moved the pan off the stove as the meat I was currently cooking finished up, stepping over to the fridge to open it. “Apple juice, orange juice, shitty canned margaritas...”

“You got those fancy root beers?” Benry asked.

“Oh, yeah, we have one left.” I pulled it out and handed it to him—one of the nice kinds with cane sugar that Darnold ended up making for us once.

“Sick. Thanks, man.” Benry said as he twisted the cap off and sipped it. “How’s it going? Been a few days since we talked, right?”

“We talked yesterday.” I reminded him. I used to be a little snippier with him about it, but he and Harold both tend to have distorted views on time due to their dissociated personality parts; once I saw just how much he legitimately has a hard time with it, I started being a little more gentle about it. “Harold and I went to the lab and helped with the drive to make it a little more efficient.”

“Oh, cool.” Benry replied, sitting on one of the barstools on the other side of the counter. The cat hopped up on the counter, lounging conspicuously in front of him. Benry went for her belly first, apparently never learning his lesson, but didn’t react at all as she clamped down on his hand. “Is that thing almost done yet? It’s been forever.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s still going to be a while before it’s ready to be used officially.” I told him as I leaned comfortably over Harold’s shoulder to get the next pack of meat to cook. Harold took a sneaky opportunity to kiss me on the cheek before I pulled away. “What have you been doing?”

“Ummm...” Benry put a hand to his chin. “Helped mod Gordon’s stream and did the Q&A on the game, worked a little more on the next installment for Nalf’s Klife. Y’know. Same ol’, same ol’.”

“Why is it called...‘Nalf’s Klife’?” Harold asked, furrowing his brow.

“Wha...? I dunno. _I_ didn’t name it.” Benry muttered with a shrug.

Gordon arrived next with Joshua. Joshua was already getting so big—he was 6, now, and officially in kindergarten.

“Hi!” Joshua greeted enthusiastically as he hurried into the kitchen, hugging Harold first before running up to hug me as well.

“Joshua! My goodness, look at how much you’ve grown.” Harold said, turning away from the onions to hold a hand up to his head like he was measuring him. “I’d say you’ve grown 10 inches already!”

“You saw me two days ago!” Joshua argued, nudging Harold’s hand away.

“Yeah? How old did you get since then?” I asked him. “You must be in your 20’s now, right?”

“ _No!_ I’m five.”

“Six, bud.” Gordon corrected him.

“Hmm. I could have _sworn_ you were just starting college, though.” Harold said, faking being in deep thought as he put his hand to his chin. “Are you _sure?_ ”

“Yes!” Joshua insisted.

“What did you do in school?” I asked him as I turned back to the meat I was cooking.

“We set the butterflies free today.” Joshua told us enthusiastically, turning to stand on his toes so he could lean over the counter and pet the cat.

“Oh, yes, the butterflies.” Harold said with a smile. “How did that go?”

“It was fun!”

“You wanna tell them about how you tried to take one home?” Gordon asked as he sat down beside Benry with an amused look.

Joshua frowned. “No.”

Gordon snorted. “Alright, that’s fine, then.”

Tommy and Darnold arrived last with Sunkist. The cat wasn’t too much of a fan of Sunkist, but at least tolerated her presence as she sat high and mighty up on the counter where Sunkist knew she shouldn’t be. Darnold was still wearing his teaching ensemble—he always went for slacks or skirts, sweatervests and bowties.

“Sorry we’re kinda late.” Darnold said, yawning and pulling off his bowtie. “I wanted to finish up some grading stuff really quick before heading over, and it took a little longer than I expected.”

“No worries! You’re right on time.” Harold replied cheerily.

I started to help Harold set out the food, but he stopped me, nudging me towards the table.

“You go get comfortable! You’ve done enough. It’s _your_ epilogue day, after all.” Harold said as he insisted I sit down.

“Alright, fine.” I huffed, sitting down slowly.

“Oh, yeah, happy epilogue day!” Darnold said as he sat down beside me. “How’s it feel getting it done with?”

I shrugged. “Neutral. Did you feel any particular way about it?”

“It was nice, I think.” Darnold replied, leaning his head into his palm. “It ended on a good note, but there’s still so much for me to experience afterward. It felt like...it wasn’t wrapping up my _whole life,_ obviously. But it just felt like good closure for me to move on. You know?”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” I muttered, resting my head in my palm as well as Harold set out the food. “How was work?”

“Great!” Darnold said with a grin. “They always said high school kids are a nightmare, but I don’t know, I have a good time with ‘em. I loved working with younger kids while I was training, but chemistry is closest to what I’m most passionate about, and passing that on to kids has been so much fun. _Especially_ since the education system in this world is so much different.”

“I still think it would be much more efficient to implant knowledge into their heads, the way they did it with me.” I said as Harold finished serving out the food and sat down himself by my other side.

“Well— _yeah,_ but that takes away from the hands-on experience!” Darnold protested. “I was reading about it, actually. In this world, they tried testing it as a standardized method of teaching, but the knowledge retention isn’t good if it isn’t immediately practiced, anyway, and the brain doesn’t grow as well—”

“Well, maybe if they had better brains, it would be a truly efficient system.” I interrupted.

Darnold laughed, instantly taking my argument a little less seriously. “Oh, sure, yeah, if they simply had better brains, it would be fine.”

It had been a while since we all had dinner together, actually. This was nice. It got a little rowdy at times, particularly with the way Gordon and Benry tend to play-argue, but it’s hard to mind that so much after the amount of time we’ve spent together. After we ate, I ended up having a little bit of wine—I swear, the amount of wine I can have before getting drunk gets smaller and smaller every time I drink these days—and got a bit tipsier than intended. Feeling a little less inhibited, I took Harold’s hand in my own and cleared my throat.

“It’s my epilogue, so now, I get to say some shit.” I said definitively.

Everyone else nodded, giving me their full attention.

I sat back, crossing one leg over the other and taking a moment to think. “...Thank you all for having dinner with us. It...means a lot that you all dropped everything to come over, actually.”

“Of course!” Gordon said with a smile.

“Yeah, Bubby—we’re happy to be here.” Tommy added while Benry sang appreciative sweet voice.

I nodded, adjusting my glasses on my face. “...Thanks. Well, um, it’s been very, _very_ nice to spend my life with you all. I didn’t dream I would ever have a life like this, back when I lived in Black Mesa. You’re all annoying as hell sometimes, but I—...don’t hate that.” I bit my lip, squeezing Harold’s hand. “Well—fuck it. I’m drunk. Who cares? I love you all a lot. You’re my best friends, and the family I never thought I would get to have. I thought I was going to die in Black Mesa alone, forced apart from anyone I ever cared about. And...nothing scared me more than that. But I’ve seen and done so much I didn’t think I would get to experience since then. Things that sucked, and things that were great. Um—...thanks, you guys. For being a part of my life. You didn’t have to stick around me once we got here, there’s so much else you could be doing with your time, but you all came here to be with me for my epilogue instead, and...th-...thank you. Really.”

Harold wiped away at tears forming in his eyes, pulling me in for a tight hug as Darnold put a hand on my shoulder.

“Of course, I’m very glad to be here with you!” Darnold said, squeezing my shoulder. “I know we usually end up kinda busy, but any time I get to spend with you is a treat.”

“Yeah, man, we’re great friends.” Benry added.

I nodded, struggling a little with all the positive attention directed at me, but soaking it in at the same time. I’ve never been too great about that balance. But I adjusted my glasses on my face again to wipe at my eyes as well—it’s just the alcohol, I definitely wouldn’t cry at that ordinarily—before thanking them all again. Tommy ran out and got a cake for us to share as well after dinner, extending the night together a little longer before everyone eventually had to trickle off and head home. That was fine, honestly, I was getting tired between my early bedtime schedule and the wine. I sat down on the couch with Harold rather than going to bed straight away, though, the cat hopping up on the arm of the couch to stare at us while she purred.

“How would you say your epilogue day was, Bubby?” Harold asked as he draped an arm over my shoulders.

“Good.” I replied, leaning against him. “I’m glad I made the choice to do it. I don’t think I would’ve done it any other way.”

“...How did you know when you felt you were ready?” Harold asked curiously.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. You remember last night, when I told you I was going to go for it. It just felt like the natural choice.”

Harold nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”

“Are you thinking about yours?”

“Well, I’ve been wondering for a little while how I would want mine to go, yes.” Harold agreed. “I suppose I’ll know the opportunity when I see it.”

We sat together for a while, watching the show Harold was currently watching whenever I went to bed before him. I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t quite need to—it was just nice to sit with Harold for a while as I started to doze off. We used to sit on the couch together watching whatever movies I managed to get my hands on in Black Mesa, but it never felt so natural like this. It was always a little strained, back then; the knowledge of our situation, keeping an emotional and physical distance between ourselves the best we could stand to avoid the future pain of being torn away from one another. Even the littlest things felt like the most painful reminders of the wall between us back then. Even then, every moment I was apart from him felt like torture—in retrospect, after time spent in therapy, I can recognize at least that wasn’t healthy.

It was sort of embarrassing to recognize that, at first, actually. Realizing how much I’d grown dependent on him, as one of the few people who made things bearable in Black Mesa, but I have a little more sympathy towards my past self over that. That was a product of no formative, healthy relationships while I was growing up—I had people who were _nice_ to me, it wasn’t all torture and horror, but Harold was the first person I got close to on what felt close to an eye-to-eye level. And I certainly clung for dear life.

I feel like I’m settling into something more stable now, though. Finally. It was a little tough for a while, struggling with my skewed views on my relationships, constantly looking for reasons why my friends were going to leave. I think I’m doing much better these days. Not every new day feels terrifying, and not every misplaced interaction feels like the end of the world. I’m stabilizing. Feeling like I actually belong here, rather than being the terrified science experiment Gordon dragged up to the surface with him.

...Well, I said at first I wasn’t going to monologue for 20 minutes, but it’s hard to help that when I’ve had alcohol and I’m spacing out. Oh well. I think I’m about to fall asleep, so I might as well end things here.

Congratulations, if you made it this far. I know I didn’t try to make it too exciting, but that’s not really what I wanted out of it. I guess I hope it was enough, anyway.

Goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was SO close to giving bubby a headcrab for this but while i was doing all the drafting for this fic i got too caught up in the ethical dilemmas of exotic pets....i do love bubby with a headcrab though


	58. Benry

>hey it's my epilogue time :) :) :) hi everyone

>so what's up. ummm let's see here today i'm gonna be doing my official release for the first of my games series <3 we have it all set up so i can do a live launch on justin tv. all my best friends are gonna be helping me out with the launch too, it's gonna be awesome. originally my games were just a science team exclusive, to give gordon some shit to stream, but i guess his viewers wanted to play the games themselves too? so i added a bunch of new content and now i'm releasing it all today.

>the series is called nalf's klife. it was just some bullshit based on the rescas and everything at first. i thought it'd be funny to come full circle, go from being in a game to making a game out of it for gordon to play and be the player himself after being the player character and everything. and i was right it WAS funny. but y'know, i guess people think it's actually cool. people are reading way into it like it's some sort of surrealist horror piece, which like...sure i guess?

>well anyways lets get this show on the road i guess lol. here we go

“hey, what time is it, tommy?” gordon asks, too busy holding a clipboard in one hand and his little performer’s headset in the other to look at his watch.

“it’s...” tommy pulls his fancy suit sleeve back. “3:37. getting close to time.”

i’m sitting on one of those shitty barstools they always have on stages, the type that comedians always put their bottle of water on, while they head back and forth on and off stage to help me create my vision. they’re all dressed up really nice, like they’re rich people going to some kind of opera, while i’m just wearing one of those suit-printed t-shirts, cargo shorts and sandals. and my hat of course. i normally don’t even wear anything like this, but i thought it’d be funny, to have everyone sat in the audience wearing nice clothes while i’m dressed up like this. like how at gaming conferences, the people on stage have nice clothes, but everyone else is dressed up casually, because who gives a shit? yeah. i wanted the reverse.

there’s not gonna be anyone else in the audience. just my friends. we got alyx, freeman and barney’s help with tech shit, so they’re running things behind the scenes. it’s gonna alternate between shots of the stage and the really, _really_ empty auditorium whenever it’s not showing the vids i recorded. and i told all my friends to do whatever they wanted in the audience, they don’t even have to be paying attention. the less coordinated and focused they are, the better, actually. i recorded and edited the promotion videos myself, deep fried them a little. i guess i’m, ummm, slightly nervous? i guess? i dunno. _some_ part of me is. i feel my heart racing a little bit, at least. i think the part of me who’s nervous is worried that people aren’t gonna like my shit. but like, i dunno, even if they don’t, i did this all for fun, anyway. i don’t really care either way.

harold told me to go to therapy for that, by the way. all the other guys in me that i have to like, actually talk to. i guess i tried it. it’s super weird to me though. i guess i got what i needed out of it, but going in and talking about it over and over with someone else never really did me any favors, i guess. she told me how to handle some stuff and now i’m good to go i think. maybe i’ll go back later if i need more help. but for now i guess i’m good with just like, talking to my other guys on their own, whenever i’m not busy. especially since i guess my shit is so complicated it feels like it hurts more when someone who doesn’t get it messes up talking to me about it? i dunno, maybe i’m just not ready? so like...yeah, i guess i tell the other guy who’s nervous it’s gonna be fine. cuz it is. whether this shit bombs or not, whatever. i can always move on and do something else. i’ve got a bunch of time ahead of me anyway.

it gets closer and closer to time, and gordon walks on stage to squeeze my shoulder the way he always does. it’s nice. he didn’t do it at first. he was always sorta touchy anyway, whether he was annoyed with me or not, but he’s gentler about it now. it’s like...he’s doing it because he really _wants_ to be in contact and show he’s there. that’s something i like about him a lot. he’s like...really considerate and doesn’t really hold back on showing people he likes them. it’s nice to finally land myself as someone he likes. i guess i get why it took so long, and i definitely had to get better at communicating with him—and everyone else—but now that i’m THERE with him, it’s really, really good.

“yo.” i say.

“you excited, man?” gordon asks, smiling down at me. he’s got his hair tied up nicely in one of those really fancy styles he does sometimes for special occasions, and he’s wearing the same suit he wore to harold and bubby’s wedding. well—y’know, it’s “the same” as in it’s a replica he ended up finding in his closet after we got to this new universe. it looks good on him.

“y’know. it’s whatever.” i reply and shrug. “you guys ready?”

“yup! everything’s all set up, i think.” gordon says, nodding towards the off-stage section. “i think the viewers are really gonna like your presentation. it’s completely incomprehensible.”

“thanks. <3”

joshua runs up on stage, too, wearing a new little fancy suit since the wedding was forever ago and he’s gotten too big for his old one. he’s like, eight now i think? fucked up. he’s a really good kid though, i like him. glad gordon has a kid because i do like kids, i just literally can’t picture going out of my way to have one myself, but i get to be part of THIS kid’s life. and i’m lucky that it’s josh, y’know? he’s a really cool.

“hey josh.” i say, patting his head with both of my hands like a drum.

joshua laughs and pushes my hands away. “why are we wearing suits for this?” he asks.

“cuz it’s funny bro.” i reply. “don’t you think so?”

joshua glances between me and his dad, assessing the dissonance in our outfits before nodding. “yeah, that’s pretty good.”

“sick. i got the approval of the master here.” i say, patting his head again. man, he’s getting really big. i used to do this when he was still just like, 2 or 3, and i had to reach a lot further down. “what do you think if i only do the sweet voice at the very last split second of the stream? since everyone in chat always wants me to do it whenever i’m on stream? i was thinking that would be pretty funny.”

joshua giggles. “and it like—it cuts off, like that video with the dog?”

“yeah, exactly like that.”

“that would be really funny!”

“nice. i’ll go for that then.”

“we’d better go take our seats. you wanna sit with me, josh?” gordon asks.

“yeah!”

“alright.” gordon says, patting my shoulder a couple times before walking off stage. “good luck benry!”

“thanks bro.”

while the lambda tech crew does some final checks and tests before the stream goes up, i watch everyone settle down in their seats. i pull out my camera, snapping a few pictures of them for the memories. they’re pretty cute pictures, everyone’s sure to smile for me at least. i put my camera away, barney announcing that the stream’s about to go up into the little performer’s headsets we’ve all got on for cues. the lights are really fucking bright. i asked to have them turned down a little bit before, which darkened the stream feed a bit but that was fine, that’s kind of the vibe we’re going for anyway, but any more and it would be too much. i kinda just have to deal with it. gordon’s sitting at the front of the audience with joshua, since gordon’s our brand recognition because of how most of the viewers here are coming from his viewer base, and he’s putting on a really unimpressed look while i start my presentation. that’s just kinda part of our whole _thing,_ with our online presence. darnold’s sitting pretty close to the front, too, but he brought his entire potions setup and i’m pretty sure he’s making more of that awesome root beer. it’s fantastic, really adds to the atmosphere. and harold’s asleep somewhere in the middle, and i think he’s _actually_ asleep, not pretending. perfect. tommy’s looking like he’s actually paying attention, which has like, sort of a dissonance to everyone else, which is good. then bubby’s somewhere in the back, starting to eat an entire watermelon, rind and all. that’s not even something they’re doing for a bit i think, they just do that sometimes.

my friends put on a pretty good performance for the stream. it wouldn’t really add enough to the atmosphere if it was just me doing my thing on stage, i think. it makes it really good that my friends know the vibe i’m going for and do their best to contribute to that. a lot of the presentation just kind of ends up being us fucking around, actually. according to alyx, the chat’s really loving it. they REALLY go wild when sunkist makes her appearance, too. it’s great. i show some prerecorded gameplay, and i impulsively pull up people at random on stage to say some shit about the game, except gordon’s the only one who’s actually played the final product, so nobody knows what to say except to make shit up when i ask them questions about it.

altogether, the presentation ends up being a pretty good success. once the stream goes down, we go over the stats and everything, and it looks like a lot of people downloaded the game right on official launch, which started directly after the stream ended. we start packing everything up to leave the auditorium, and once we’re done, we all go to a piroshky place i really like to eat at.

“So...” barney says, looking at me. “All that was based off _your_ resonance cascade?”

“yeah, man.” i reply and nod.

“i mean, he took...a _lot_ of liberties.” gordon adds.

“yeah but it’s the _emotional_ truth of it.” i point out. i sort of say it like i’m joking but it’s kind of true. i guess a lot of people saw it as super weird, but it’s just kind of how it felt to me while we were in there. so i guess that’s what people are pointing at when they say it’s a surrealist horror game, even though that’s not really what i was intending. but hey, i don’t care how people interpret it. “what, was your resonance cascade not like that? bro?”

barney snorted. “No, not at all. I don’t know what the hell kind of world you were living in before, but it was a lot different when I was going through Black Mesa.”

i don’t really know how to reply to that, so i just sing sweet voice at him. he kinda reacts to it the way gordon used to, but i don’t really mind that. i like barney. i can usually get actual shocked reactions out of him whenever i do weird shit, when everyone else already knows the drill with me, but he’s usually a lot more chill about it all than gordon used to be. he questions shit, but he still takes it pretty well. so it’s fun to mess with him.

also he and freeman are gonna get married soon, isn’t that cool? i just thought that was interesting. i love weddings actually. harold and bubby’s wedding was really sweet before it all turned to shit. so i’m definitely gonna go to freeman and barney’s, and i wanna go absolutely wild at that one. i’m also just sort of waiting for tommy and darnold to finally start planning theirs, they’ve been together for a while but they haven’t gotten engaged yet, so like, what gives, y’know?

anyways we all finish our piroshkies and start heading home. i still have a room made up for myself in all of their houses—even barney’s and freeman’s now—but i go with gordon for today. i like being able to go between houses. it’s nice, having a space for myself with everyone. i never felt the need to have my own house. it’d be too quiet like that. i’m getting a little more used to being alone when everyone else is busy, but having roomies definitely cuts down on that. and like, they all have room for me anyway, so it’s no big deal.

uhhh i guess i sorta expected that to go longer, i guess this is a pretty short epilogue? huh. well, sorry guys. hope that—

“hey, benry?”

i look up at gordon, who’s brushing his hair back and smiling down at me nervously. at least, i think he’s nervous, i still kinda struggle with body language, but he looks tense.

“yeah?” i ask him.

“you wanna go for a drive with me?”

“oh yeah, sure, bro.” i reply. tommy and darnold are standing there with us in front of gordon’s house, and they seem to like, give gordon a Knowing Look before they take joshua’s hand and head back to their own house with him. huh.

i climb back into the car with gordon, and he starts driving. i open the glove compartment and put in some music—we kinda ended up finding some common ground in music outside our usual tastes a while ago, other than clown core or linkin park. we like to listen to cascada. i put in the one with every time we touch, because like, you GOTTA listen to that. gordon laughs when i skip to that one, but it’s that sorta high-pitched nervous laugh? idk why he’s getting so freaked out, we’re just driving. weird. i start singing along, and so does he, and we’re basically just scream-singing to it after a bit, which seems to help him calm down. who needs calming sweet voice when you can just scream to techno music?

eventually he stops the car somewhere kinda at the start of some forest trail. there’s nobody else parked here, cuz it’s starting to get dark out now. he stops the music :( and climbs out of the car.

“where are we going?” i ask him. “thought it was just a drive.”

gordon snickers. “well, yeah, we’re just gonna go a little further in on this trail. at least, if you’re okay with that.”

“yeah, sure, man.” i say while i climb out too.

we walk along the trail for a little while. it’s dark, but gordon brought a flashlight for himself—i got darkvision, so i don’t need it, but i do sing some sweet voice to light the trail in a nice ambient glow, too. eventually he takes me off-trail, though. not for too long, but we stop in some kinda clearing, where he climbs up to sit on a really big rock. i teleport next to him, and he lets out a deep sigh. he seems a little winded, actually.

“hey, man.” i say. “you tired? gordon tiredman?”

gordon laughs. “that doesn’t even rhyme! you’re making the joke incomprehensible.”

“you get it, though.” i point out.

“yeah, i guess i do.” gordon replies with a smile. he looks nervous again while he curls up on the rock a little. “so, uhh...congrats on your game launch, dude. really. i’m proud of you.”

i smile. “thanks, man. so, you take me here to kill me or something?”

gordon looks at me with wide eyes. “what?”

“you take me out off-trail in the middle of the night, bro, that’s like, classic slasher shit.” i say, but i’m totally fucking with him, of course. he catches on, like he usually does.

“yeah, benry, i totally took you here to kill you. i’m gonna finish the job, now that i’ve got your guard down.” he says, looping an arm around my neck like he’s about to choke me, but he’s gentle. i make choking noises anyway, which makes him laugh.

he lets me go, though, rubbing the back of his neck. “actually, uhhh...i really wanted to tell you something.”

i look at him curiously.

“i...w-well...” he drums his fingers on his prosthetic arm, like he normally does when he’s nervous. “we’ve been friends for a while. like, actually friends—i know shit was rocky during the game, and a little rocky after that, too. but like...you’ve grown a lot. and i feel like i have, too, honestly—i just...i spent all this time having a hard time letting go of that image i got of _everyone_ during the game. like...you guys were trapped in time in my head, i guess. but i feel like these past few years, i’ve actually been able to let go of that and see you all for who you are now. the game was a long time ago, and i’m so glad i get to spend the rest of my life with all of you guys. w-with...with you.”

oohhh, boy, some part of me is getting a really extreme feeling right now. i don’t really know what it is, but my heart’s racing, and i’m feeling a little nauseous with how extreme it is. i don’t really know what he’s leading up to? maybe that part of me is getting it, but whatever it is, he’s got it under lock and fucking key and is running away with the box. i guess i gotta wait for gordon to spit it out already.

“benry...” gordon says, reaching down to put his hand on mine, “i...think i like you. a lot.”

“...well, yeah, i like you too, man.” i say casually.

gordon laughs, but it wasn’t really a joke?

“no, no—dude, i’m telling you i’m—... _into_ you. like, r-romantically.” he says.

...oh. _oooohhhh._ oh...

“oh.” i say, and i feel like every single muscle in my body is just freezing up.

gordon stares at me for a minute, while i really don’t know what to say.

“do you...feel the same?” he asks.

“uuuhhh...” i stare back at him.

man. i mean—i do like him. he’s really fun to mess with, especially now that like, it’s not a whole thing that feels like i _have_ to keep him entertained so he’ll stay and we can keep on existing. that was fucked up. that wasn’t even for gordon anyway—that was for the player. but it was hard for a while to separate the two in my head, until i actually saw the difference between them. but anyways it’s not life or death anymore, he’s not freaking out about the game, we just have fun with each other. i mean he TRIES to mess with me just as much as i mess with him these days, it’s great. i love living with him on and off again, and i think i wouldn’t mind if i actually like, settled down with him? and...he’s pretty, i think he’s really really pretty. i guess i _have_ wanted this. for a while, actually. i just...didn’t think it was okay to ask? i guess?

gordon puts his hands up in defeat. “hey, i mean—i’m sorry, if you don’t feel the same way, that’s totally cool! i—maybe i was misreading your signals? i thought...” he stops, looking away. “i mean, whatever, yeah—it’s cool if you don’t...feel the same. i just...oh, man.”

he looks really embarrassed. i should say something. _god,_ i should _really_ say something.

“uuhhh...” i say again. “w-...what if they did oreos, but like, with peanut butter inside them instead? wouldn’t that be fucked up.”

gordon looks at me. “oh. uhh—yeah? i mean, i don’t know, i haven’t—...” he pauses, chewing on his lip. “if you wanna drop this, man, that’s totally fine. i just...”

he trails off and stops, staring down at the leaves underneath us.

“s-sorry.” i say. “uhh—i just don’t know what to say. or...how to act. i guess.”

gordon nods with a small laugh. “yeah. i guess i don’t, either.”

i can’t really help but let out some sweet voice. it’s a combination of nervous and embarrassed—i guess...flustered is more accurate? ugh. i hate feeling so _extreme_ like this. i guess it’s not totally bad when it’s like this with gordon, though? it’s just making it really hard to think. i don’t know what i want. i like him, i’ve sorta imagined moments like this and getting to be with him a lot, but like...oh, man. i’d really fuck up a relationship, i think. i let out more nervous sweet voice, a _lot_ of it—nervous with like, worry and self-consciousness. _uuuugh._ i can’t really stop it.

“hey, man.” gordon says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “if you wanna just forget about this, that’s fine by me. we can go home and like, watch one of those weird movies you like, or...if you need space...”

i make kind of an embarrassing strangled noise to stop the sweet voice.

“but like...” gordon pauses, brushing his hand through his hair again. “i mean—maybe i was misreading, maybe this is out of line, i don’t know, sorry if it is. but...i mean, all that sweet voice...are you just...worried?”

i nod.

“...you wanna talk about it?”

“i-...” i kinda choke on more sweet voice for a second before i manage to actually stop. “you...sure you wanna go there, man? with _me?_ ”

gordon smiles, squeezing my shoulder. “yeah, dude, i wouldn’t be saying anything otherwise! i like you.”

i sing more sweet voice, all embarrassed and nervous again. it’s getting bright enough with all the sweet voice hanging in the air that gordon might not even need his flashlight. he slowly drapes his arm over my shoulders, drawing me in closer, and the sweet voice goes _all_ embarrassed. holy shit. he’s so warm. i don’t actually have a lot of body heat, sorta like tommy, that’s why i always gotta wear the fucking hoodie, but he wraps his arms around me and hugs me. he doesn’t actually hug me that often like this. he’s touchy, but he doesn’t really go this far normally? my heart’s pounding a lot while i just sit there with him in silence.

“it’s totally fine if you don’t think you’re ready or whatever, dude.” gordon suddenly says. “but like...y’know. you don’t need to get hung up on whether i’m making the right choice or not, wanting to be with _you._ you’re...you’re a good.”

i can’t help but laugh when he says that, and he laughs too. i kinda gently wrap my arms around him, just enjoying this for a minute.

“i—...” i finally start to say. “i like you. i just...need...some time, i think.”

gordon nods. “yeah. sure, man. whatever you need.”

i keep hugging him, though. i like hugging the others and everything, but it’s different for gordon. satisfying in its own unique way, i guess. i let out a long content sigh while i hold him closer. it’s just nice to sit here, quiet with him for a while. i can feel my heartrate going down, at least.

“...guess we should probably head back home, huh?” he asks.

i nod. “guess so.”

it’s kinda awkward while we walk back, actually. hugging it out on the rock was fine, but now that we’ve put distance between each other, it’s like...weird. i keep my hands in my pockets as gordon leads the way out of the woods to the parking lot. i put cascada back on in the car, though, which at least fills the silence.

i kinda feel bad for rejecting him. well, soft rejecting, i do wanna be with him...eventually. i just wouldn’t know what to do. i’m...sorta scared of how it could change everything about what we’ve got. what we’ve got is good. _really_ good. and i don’t wanna lose that if i fuck up with him. even just beyond that, like...i don’t know how to act in a relationship? what if i’m not enough? what would make a relationship between us so different than what we have already? what if i can’t handle the changes gordon feels like we need to make? like—i’m so used to our friendship, i can’t imagine breaking any new territory with him. i just wanna stay like this with him forever. that’s all.

we eventually get back home, and gordon goes back to tommy and darnold’s for joshua. i stand with him at the door, but as gordon starts to head back to his house, i just kinda stand there with tommy.

“you, uhh...you staying with them?” gordon asks.

i clench my hands into fists in my hoodie pocket. “uhh...yeah. maybe. sorry.”

“no, no, that’s okay.” gordon replies. “whatever you want. don’t worry about my feelings, man, it’s fine.”

“maybe i’ll come by tomorrow? play some skate 2?” i suggest.

“yeah. that sounds good.” gordon replies, glancing down at josh. “well...g’night, guys.”

“nite.” i reply.

“goodnight, gordon.” tommy calls after him as they start walking back to gordon’s house.

once gordon and josh are in their house, tommy turns to me, opening the door enough for me to come in. “...so, uhhh...” he says awkwardly while i walk in, stuffing his free hand in his pocket as he closes the door behind me.

“he tell you what he was up to already?” i ask him.

tommy nods. “yeah. sorry.”

i shrug. “it’s fine. i...guess i said no. for now.”

tommy nods again, walking ahead of me to the living room. darnold’s already in here, watching tv. tommy sits down beside darnold, and i drape myself across their laps like i always like to do.

“how’d he take it?” tommy asks.

“good.” i reply uncertainly. “at least, to my face, i guess.”

“i mean, i totally thought you liked him.” darnold points out.

“yeah. i guess i do.” i admit. “it’s just...y’know. i don’t know how to do a human relationship or anything like that. i don’t even know how to do an alien relationship, i don’t know jack shit.”

tommy snorts at that. “you watch all those—you watch so many romance movies!”

“well, to be fair, i don’t know if a romance movie is the best way to learn how to handle a relationship. depending on the movie, at least, a lot of them are garbage.” darnold points out with a laugh.

“at the very least, benry, i don’t think—umm, i don’t think gordon would be too surprised if you needed to take it slow.” tommy points out. “he already knows your limits and everything. i don’t think he’s gonna be, like—expecting you to be perfect.”

i shrug. “i guess. i just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

darnold nods in understanding. “yeah, i get that. i mean, i spent forever not asking tommy out because i was worried about fucking it up. but i think you’d do fine, benry! you’ve already come a long way in how you treat even just your regular friendships. i don’t think you couldn’t figure out how to handle a romantic relationship. especially with gordon, he’s pretty good about making his needs known.”

“yeah! and you guys are already, like—you’re already really close.” tommy adds with a smile. “it’s understandable if you—umm, if you feel like you need some time. but i don’t think you’d fuck it up.”

i pause for a minute to think about it. i guess what they’re saying makes some sense. maybe...after a little while, i’ll try something out with gordon. for now, though, i just need some time to adjust to the idea.

eventually, tommy and darnold have to go to bed. boring. harold’s usually up longer than them, though, so i head over to harold and bubby’s place, finding them both on the couch in front of the tv. bubby’s curled up on their side, laying their head in harold’s lap, sound asleep. it’s really cute. old people in love is great—like, they’ve loved each other for a really really long time, and they’re still obviously not sick of each other. what could be better than that? harold smiles at me and waves quietly, clearly trying not to wake up bubby.

i sit down carefully next to them, but bubby’s like, the lightest sleeper in the fucking world, just the shift of the couch cushions wakes them up. they look up blearily, looking between me and harold.

“what fucking time is it?” they ask.

“it’s about...11pm, dear.” harold replies, pulling up the little menu on the tv to check. “you should go to bed, if you’re tired.”

their cat makes her fated guest appearance, though, hopping up from the floor to drape herself on top of bubby and stare at me. harold laughs, petting her that weird way he always does where he puts a lot of pressure on her head and drags his hand all the way down her body. she seems to like it, she starts purring really loud.

“oh, nope! looks like you’re stuck here with me.” harold says while he pets her. “my sweetest little baby, imprisoning my dearest bubby!”

“if you’re staying here, then can i just...” i say, shifting to lay down with them on my back. i’m kinda on top of bubby, but close enough to harold too, while the cat hisses at me for a second before sniffing my head and chilling out.

“ugh, benry, you’re crushing my hip.” bubby complains.

i move a little bit. “better?”

“whatever.” bubby sighs.

“today was my epilogue, by the way.” i finally admit.

“oh! why didn’t you say anything?” harold asks.

i shrug. “dunno. didn’t wanna fuck with anyone’s vibes or anything.”

“well, how would you say it went?” harold asks me curiously, draping his arm over me and bubby.

i pause for a long minute to think about it. the game release was good. the confession thing...

“...good.” i finally say. “went kinda unexpected for a bit, but good. thanks again for helping me out with the game shit, by the way.”

“of course, benry!” harold says with a grin.

“yeah, it was okay.” bubby adds.

we all go quiet, bubby slowly falling back asleep as me and harold watch tv together. we’re watching some show he usually watches this time of night, i’ve been kinda catching bits and pieces of it with him. eventually, though, the episode ends, and after a little while longer, harold takes the cat and bubby to go to bed.

just me, then. i don’t actually sleep that often. i sleep a little extra whenever i’m bored without everyone else, but i’ve kinda started using the extra time for my projects, too. so i teleport to barney’s place really quick to pick up my laptop i left behind there the other night—i teleport into the kitchen where he’s standing there with freeman, both obviously in the middle of a late night snack, which scares the shit out of them. whoops. i grab my laptop, though, say sorry to them and head back to my room in gordon’s place. this is the laptop i’ve got sort of an experimental program that i’ve been working on, _hopefully_ i’ll be able to get it running tonight.

  
  
  
  
  


WELBCOME...

LOADIG PROGRAM...

  
  


****

**BENNY**

yo

hey can u hear me?

****

  


**PLAYER**

?????????????????????

dude?????? how the fuck are you doing this????

****

  


**BENNY**

whatev

its our own little chatroom how do u like it?

yo u there?

****

  


**PLAYER**

yes???? but?? what the fuck???

dude, you're supposed to be moving on with your life, why the hell did you go to all this trouble to talk to me?

****

  


**BENNY**

wow :/ ur so mean i put in all this work for u

i thought ud like it

u were all fucked up about us leaving n everything

plus i wanted to talk to u again

i guess i got shit to say to u that i didnt get the chance 2 say when we were sayin goodbye

****

  


**PLAYER**

...i don't think this is gonna work beyond your epilogue, though. this might be the only time we can actually talk. and...man.

i don't know. yeah, i guess it's cool to talk to you again, at least one last time.

what do you want to talk about?

****

  


**BENNY**

well

i guess ive been processing shit

about everything involving the game and all that

remember that one time how it was like

i went on this whole thing about how it was fucked up that u didnt see the game as a huge threat or anything when it had been such a big thing for me

****

  


**PLAYER**

yeah. i do.

****

  


**BENNY**

like i still think thats pretty fucked up and i guess like thats kind of a side effect of the way we existed, right

like you built us up inside a video game. then we learned we were in a video game. and we ended up being the sole entertainment. what would be the point without a boss fite u know?

thats all majorly weird and kinda fucked with us a lot

****

  


**PLAYER**

:( i'm sorry.

****

  


**BENNY**

yea i mean idk its like

fucked up

but at the same time

i know you didnt really intend for it to go that way, and while thats fucked in its own way i dont think its entirely your fault. and ultimately its pretty cool you owned up to it and put us here

its been nice here. in this new world

i guess i didnt process how much i was still viewing myself as like

an entertainment vessel i guess

which i kinda flip flopped on like either i withdrew entirely or i was weird to my friends

u know what i mean?

****

  


**PLAYER**

yeah.

  


****

**BENNY**

harold actually helped me out with that a lot. he like, gets it

hes got that one clone that was all fucked up about feeling like he was only there to serve that specific purpose, right

but we kinda worked through that together i think. but thatd be a tangent i guess

so what i really wanna say to u is

i know u probably didnt mean for us to get hurt

or for me to become what i became or whatev u dont really seem like a villain mastermind like that 2 me

****

  


**PLAYER**

haha. yeah, well, i try my best not to be.

****

  


**BENNY**

i guess like

idk

all im saying is even tho that was fucked up

it was cool of you to let go

i mean. took a bit of adjusting for me too

still kinda felt like i had that responsibility and it translated over to my shit with gordon for a while

i think u saw all that right

****

  


**PLAYER**

yeah, well, i saw gordon's confession and how you were feeling about it. everything in your epilogue. that's it.

****

  


**BENNY**

yea

but like

i think im getting over it

like even tho i think ur cool technically i guess i get what u were saying about how it wasnt a good idea for us to be friends

which is pretty sad gotta be real

but i guess like, my point there is, even if were not like really gonna be able to talk ever again or how it might not even be a good idea for that to be a thing in the first place

u seem like a cool guy and i appreciate the good u did

that time in the computer was nice. u nudging things around to help us out

that was good

idk how well we wouldve adjusted to a real life automatically after the game anyway tbh

imagine if u stuck us in a real world automatically and we had to like

get jobs and pay bills and shit

im sure we wouldve made it work and all but that wouldve sucked ass

i mightve just mooched off gordon entirely and pissed him off more

it was like. a good bridge i think.

so thanks for everything u did

and thanks for owning up to ur shit and putting us here

like i said its been really good here

some ups and downs but u know

hope uv been doing good

hope u can do good in the future too wherever u are

i dont really get what ur whole thing is with reality or whatever but u seem way into it so i hope it goes good

u there?

****

  


**PLAYER**

yeah. still here.

...thanks, benry. for what it's worth, i know i already said this, but...

i really am sorry for everything.

i just wanted the best for you guys. but for a bit i wasn't really willing to let "the best" be something outside of my influence. partly for selfish reasons, partly because i was afraid of you guys getting hurt again. but i'm really, really glad you guys have been enjoying yourselves in your new lives.

thanks for telling me all this. honestly, i hope it's not out of line for me to say this, but i'm really proud of you, dude.

you seem like you've been doing really well for yourself. you've grown a lot since the game!

i wish things could have gone differently. i know better what my impact is now, and i know why i have to put distance between myself and subjects. it just sucks that you guys had to be the ones i learned that from. so, i'm sorry.

****

  


**BENNY**

thats fine

i dont think wed be who we are today without the game u know

like i dont think id be me at all if it wasnt for that

id be like

ben

or whatever

and i guess its pretty cool that i get to be who i am and have my friends be cool with it

so thanks for that

****

  


**PLAYER**

i'm glad.

****

  


**BENNY**

so like how have u been doing

****

  


**PLAYER**

well...you know. same as it ever was for me, lol.

just handling stuff the way i'm supposed to, for real this time. minimal contact with subjects and all that, kinda like i said.

and handling g-man.

****

  


**BENNY**

o shit kinda forgot about him lol

hows he

****

  


**PLAYER**

he's doing pretty okay actually!

i think i'm gonna be moving him over to some other reality off the computer pretty soon. i think he's kinda reaching his limits on the computer, you know? and i've gotten him more receptive to living his own life.

i guess like, i mean, the shit he did was fucked up. but it was kinda my bad that he felt compelled to do all that in the first place. so it's good to see him growing past what he did to you guys in the computer.

...sorry, maybe that's all weird for me to say, considering what he did to you guys. like, "don't worry, the guy who tried to kill you is doing just fine :)"

****

  


**BENNY**

nah its fine

i mean i asked for a reason

wanted to know

i think tommys been goin back n forth on whether he feels ok about him like. fizzling out or whatever u said

so good to know his whole existence didnt end with that

****

  


**PLAYER**

yeah. well...

is there anything else you wanted to say? i wanna give you as much time as i can, of course, but i do actually have some time sensitive stuff to get to eventually. not immediately, but eventually. just wanna stay on track here is all.

****

  


**BENNY**

nah thats it

thanks 4 listening

kinda worried it was gonna feel like i was just grilling u but u know

felt important to say

****

  


**PLAYER**

nah, don't worry about grilling me, lol. it's fine.

i can handle hearing criticism. i HAVE to. i have a really important job, i'm not just gonna brush this kinda thing off just because it's hard to hear.

thanks for telling me all that. really.

****

  


**BENNY**

ya no prob

well

i guess i can get going now

i kinda wanna just turn the epilogue off and chill so

thanks 4 chatting with me

****

  


**PLAYER**

of course benry.

****

  


**BENNY**

good luck with ur life after this. hope u do well from here

****

  


**PLAYER**

you, too. really.

goodnight, benry.

****

  


**BENNY**

nite


	59. G-Man

G-Man stood alone in what could have been the remains of Black Mesa, if things had gone differently. If he’d _allowed_ things to go differently. The resonance cascade, the Nihilanth Project, everything—none of those things were real, anymore. The Combine wasn’t real. His employers weren’t real. Nothing in front of him was real, not even the bustle of scientists at a company party wearing blazers rather than lab coats or simply rolling up the sleeves on their button-ups. G-Man sipped at a glass of wine. That, of course, wasn’t real, either.

 _He_ wasn’t real.

But, at least, he was more vital than all these other people here. So, effectively, he was alone.

He could never get it the way he wanted it to be. He understood too little of humanity to effectively replicate the messy experience of life as a simple, singular being, destined to only live just over a century, if they were _lucky._ An unfortunate lifespan, but so bursting with life and vitality, determination and compassion. Maybe living for too long made him grow cold.

Then again, he hadn’t actually lived that long, had he? He only had the illusion of a long, lonely life—a vague, half-imagined backstory, G-Man thought to himself as he had another sip. He was playing around with experiencing the effects of alcohol recently. Humans seemed to like it enough to withstand the flood of illness it gave them when they overindulged, again and again. He was still deciding if he liked it or not.

>...hey man.

G-Man swirled the wine in his glass. It was, as he understood, expensive. _Chapoutier Ermitage L’Ermite Blanc._ Gave off the air of being hastily Googled by someone who doesn’t drink expensive wine.

>yeah, i mean, hey, i DON'T drink expensive wine. not that i really need to be concerned with money--neither do YOU--but it's the principle of the thing. plus i prefer beer. wine makes me sick.

So, G-Man thought, the player _does_ eat. And drink. In ways that aren’t strictly necessary.

>hey, that's not a curveball, i've talked about eating and drinking before. sure, i don't NEED to. but i like to! feels weird. it's like, sort of grounding, you know? having all those background processes in your body that affects your physical and emotional state. reminds you you're alive, i guess. here, if you're drinking, i'll crack open a beer. we can just vibe.

G-Man pointedly set down his wine glass.

> :/

G-Man picked out a familiar face, in a sea of familiar faces. He still didn’t have quite an imagination for what humans might look like; so, as always, he went with what he already knew. As time went on, though, these faces seemed to be...deteriorating a bit.

>if you'd let me help you, that wouldn't be an issue.

G-Man made his way over, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. Gordon Freeman always did that with his friends, and Tommy seemed to enjoy it. This Tommy hardly reacted to it. They _all_ barely reacted to G-Man—as though they couldn’t even process his presence, anymore. He had an endless supply of people who could roughly be called Tommy Coolatta he could try again with, and none of them could even perceive him, anymore.

>yeah. i mean. again, first off, i could totally help you with that in a general sense. but second off, i'm not helping you make another tommy--that defeats the purpose of like, everything that we just did!

Hence, another reason why G-Man refused to let go of the player’s computer.

>i do want this thing back someday by the way. i wanna play some more vr games.

G-Man turned away from the Tommy-ish man, sitting down at one of the tables that flickered around his touch. This world was falling apart around him. He’d be left with nothing pretty soon.

>yeah, again, if you let go of my computer, i could HELP you. or we could even discuss the possibility of you leaving the computer.

But G-Man could not go to the world Tommy and his friends went to.

>well, no. tommy and the others made it clear that they don't want you there.

...

>i could put you somewhere else, though. same as them, we could talk over what sort of world you wanna live in. i wanna help you!

G-Man didn’t understand the player’s incessant nagging. Why help him? G-Man wondered. He hurt the only people he ever could have been close with, and those people were considered dear friends to the player. G-Man could never find redemption unless he was given the opportunity to speak with them again. Without that, he was never going to be a man who was worth the time of day. Without his job, he had no purpose. Without his son, he had no ties to anyone else. He was effectively nothing—destined to fizzle out into unworkable code. That would be his fate.

>dude, stop. i wanna help you because it's my job, and i also don't wanna see you fizzle out, and also i want my computer back. it's like, not about what you deserve or what you were or weren't destined to be or who you fucked up with or whatever, it's just that i feel super weird about letting you die on my fucking computer like this. call me selfish or whatever, i don't care, it's like--if some sad old man refused to NOT die on my fucking living room carpet. that's weird! let me take you out of the computer so you can move on, man. you're NOT gonna find redemption, no--you already burned that bridge with everyone. you lit the bridge when you left tommy behind at dunkin' donuts, it was already on fire by the time you went to his house after the game, and you tossed kerosene over it when you fucked everything up and tried to kill his friends. the bridge is gone. all you can do now is go the other way.

What other way would there be to go, though?

>you know. find a job in another world. run a small business, become a bona fide government man or something, get a wacky roommate, i dunno what you're into. you can find a new purpose for yourself, a new life, away from all of this and all that shit with the combine and your employers. you gotta move on, man. take a pottery class, eat some hummus, join a band, whatever! try new things!!

G-Man was too stuck in his ways, he mused as he picked at the white tablecloth beneath his fingers, watching the way the thick threads burst into green and red underneath his touch. The colors rippled out across the table like water, fading away before they reached the edges.

>you don't HAVE to be, you just don't wanna leave your comfort zone. here. would you let me do something? something OTHER than graciously provide you expensive wine just so you can judge me for my choices?

G-Man supposed he had nothing else to lose, anymore.

>cool. here. let's get you out of stuffy old black mesa.

G-Man watched as the world fell apart around him, quickly rebuilding into something more vital than he’d experienced in quite a while. Still very pointedly not _real_ —he could never fully experience the illusion of reality the way he used to—but nothing began falling apart at his touch, anymore as he stepped forward into his new environment. G-Man looked around at a new bustling crowd, full of people in casual clothing—mostly all black outfits with oversized-looking t-shirts. It was dark outside, massive spotlights lighting the way for the crowd finding their spots in the grass in front of a big stage. Some band was already setting up, the crowd cheering excitedly.

“Hey!” A familiar voice greeted. G-Man turned with a start, having not been greeted in a very, very long time. His eyes widened as he found Gordon Freeman approaching with two open plastic cups, holding one out towards G-Man. “Got you a drink.”

“...Dr. Freeman?” G-Man asked incredulously.

“Kinda.” Gordon replied with a shrug, pushing the cup into G-Man’s chest. G-Man slowly accepted it. “I’m still just the player. Check it out—I put my VR headset back on for this and everything. Manifesting a body out in this type of non-game map like it’s _nothing._ Pretty cool, right?”

G-Man dropped the cup, reaching into his breast pocket to pull out his gun and point it at the player’s head.

“Dude! Cut it out!” The player whined.

G-Man pulled the trigger, expecting the player’s body to drop limp to the ground. He stayed there, though, blood splattered across his smug face.

“I came fucking _prepared_ this time.” The player said, taking a celebratory swig of his drink. “You can’t kill what’s not here, bro. Go ahead and try it all you want. Get it out of your system.”

G-Man lowered his gun a little, squinting at the player. “Why do you...bother with, drinking, then? If it has no—affect on you?”

“I’m holding an actual cup in the same hand as my controller.” The player replied with a grin. “ _Immersion._ ”

As he moved to take another swig, he made a shocked expression suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut and stumbling back a little bit. He wiped at his face with his free hand, sighing and bending over as if to pick something up.

“Dammit. Dropped the fucking cup.” He muttered.

G-Man stowed his gun away, looking back up at the stage. “Where...have you taken me?”

“I don’t know what type of music you actually like. If you like, _listen_ to anything at all, actually, aside from—what? The sound of the universe decaying or something?” The player joked. “I took a wild guess. Welcome to your first ever Metallica concert.”

“...Metal-lica?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, you strike me as a Metallica kinda guy. Classic dad rock type. Here, let’s get them started.” The player made a motion to push up his headset and put down his cup, the virtual one he was holding just sticking to his hand as he seemed to be typing at his computer. The music started playing as the player continued to type for a few more moments before withdrawing his hands, readjusting his headset and reaching for his real cup again so he could take another sip. “You want another drink?”

“No.” G-Man replied.

The music was certainly not to G-Man’s tastes. Neither was the rambunctious crowd. Every sound around him drilled into his ears, threatening to split his head apart. He turned, opening up a doorway to the void. He was intent to shut it behind him and leave the player behind, but he was quick to follow, stepping around G-Man to stand in front of him and hold his hands up defensively.

“Okay—not a dad rock guy.” The player said with a shrug. “That’s cool. We can find something else for you. Is there _anything_ you’ve ever wanted to do that you just didn’t have the time for? Like, at all?”

“Get to know...my son.” G-Man replied immediately, tone flat.

“Bro, you _know_ that’s not happening.” The player huffed predictably, crossing his arms. “Anything else?”

G-Man stared back at him blankly.

The player sighed dramatically. “Okay. Well, I can just keep guessing all day, that’s fine. Let’s see, what else...” The player turned, typing at his computer for a few seconds before the environment began to change again.

This time, G-Man found himself stood behind a podium with a small crowd of people in front of him, holding out microphones and notepads expectantly. The player was no longer by his side—he was sat at the front row, holding out a microphone.

“Mr. G-Man, what’s your take on the new policy?” The player asked seriously.

G-Man quirked an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms. “There is—no...policy to discuss.”

The rest of the crowd murmured thoughtfully, taking down his words as though they’d been important.

“C’mon, I’m prompting you to try this out! You’re a government man! Make something up.” The player urged. “First rule of improv, don’t say no. Roll with it.”

“This is...absolutely, inane.” G-Man said, stepping out from behind the podium to walk off stage. He opened a door at the back of the room, unsurprised to find that was the end of the map. He left the room, anyway, quickly followed by the player.

“Dude, come on, I’m trying here!” The player urged. “Do you _really_ wanna fizzle out? Do you _seriously_ want to reach the peak of your self-awareness and just—... _die?_ ”

G-Man cast the player a dubious look before proceeding into the void, as though he had anywhere to go. The world changed around him again, though, and he found himself stood in a modest apartment. He glanced around for the player, finding himself alone. Sighing, appreciating that at least this attempt was _quiet,_ G-Man sat down at the kitchen table. He drummed his fingers on the light wood for a few moments before the front door opened, revealing—of course—the player, carrying a few bags of groceries in his arms. G-Man caught a glimpse of the void behind him as the player shut the door with his foot.

“Hey! I picked up some flaming hot Cheetos.” The player said, dropping the bags off on the table in front of G-Man. He pulled out, as promised, a small bag of Cheetos to place in front of him tantalizingly. “You would not _believe_ what happened at the store.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” G-Man scoffed.

“I, uhhh—I was in the, umm...” The player went on, putting a hand to his chin. “I was in the cheese aisle. And I saw, uhh—...oh, fuck. I haven’t had to make shit up on the spot in a while, my improv skills have _really_ slipped.”

G-Man remained silent, picking at the bag in front of him.

The player let out a deep sigh, sweeping the groceries out of the way with his arm and sitting down across from G-Man. “Damn. Sorry. I’m sort of fucking this up, aren’t I?”

G-Man stared at him blankly.

The player seemed to interpret that as a “yes”—truly, it wasn’t anything confirming or denying, considering there wasn’t much to fuck up in the first place—and buried his face in his hands with a long groan.

“I just want you to move on, man.” The player said through his hands.

“You’ll have, your computer...soon enough. I assume.” G-Man replied dismissively.

“Yeah, but like, okay—I guess I sorta played up how much I care about _that._ That’s not really the issue here.” The player said, pulling out a loaf of sliced white bread from the bag and squishing it mindlessly under his palms as he spoke. “I just—...I failed you, man. I need to make up for it. I can’t let you die here.”

G-Man stared at the player with wide eyes. “...Failed me?”

The player frowned, resting his head in his hand. “...Yeah. I kinda did. Like...I was so focused on everyone else. I thought you’d come and join the group on your own time—see for yourself that there’s nothing for you to do in this world but enjoy the company of your son and his friends. That’s what I had planned for you, at least, like...I don’t know. I guess it was sort of fucked up of me to assume that path for you and just...expect you to walk it on your own.” The player admitted, opening the bread with his free hand and pulling out a slice to poke holes in with his finger. “As fucked up as it was for you to pull everything you did, it makes sense! Y’know? Everything you’ve ever known, the whole fight with the Combine—that’s all there _was_ for you. Then it was just pulled right out from under you, and there was nothing there to catch you. I guess. I mean—there kinda was, but...it was _my_ responsibility to be the one to make doubly sure you found your new place in life. But I didn’t.”

“There _is_ no...‘new place’ for me.” G-Man argued, pulling out a slice of bread himself to begin tearing the crust off meticulously. “You...assume, that it was vital for you to—push me, into a role I was never meant for. A role...I never _wanted._ As far as I am concerned, I did everything, I was meant to do...barring the failure, to bring my son into seeing the—importance, of my role. Truly, although...I am devastated at my failure, I...am proud of Tommy, for sticking to—the principles he was raised with. If only...I had raised him with my own.”

“Jesus, man, literally all of that is _so_ loaded, I don’t even know where to begin unpacking it.” The player sighed. “That’s what I’m _talking_ about, though. Like—you need to branch out. I should’ve been facilitating you learning to try new things! So I’m trying _now._ Yeah, it’s a little late, that’s definitely my bad. But like, you could learn a little something from that too, right? I fucked up. I had to let my friends move on, because of how badly I fucked up. But I’m still making an _effort_ to make good on what I did wrong, you know? Can’t you put forth a little effort, too?”

G-Man didn’t respond, tearing his bread slice into neat columns.

“So like...come on. Do you think there’s _anything_ I could help you with? Besides making you any new Tommys or anything like that?” The player asked.

G-Man frowned deeply, putting down the bread slice to fold his hands on top of the table. “...What...could ever absolve me, of the guilt I feel, for putting my son—through so much pain?”

The player shrugged slowly. “I dunno. I mean, I don’t think that’s something you can get _absolved_ of overnight. Honestly, for something like that, there’s like...I don’t know where the line is between learning to forgive yourself for your own mistakes versus acknowledging that you fucked up enough that you really _shouldn’t_ be allowing yourself to just let go of, because that’s not _your_ pain to forget. You know? I guess the best I can offer is showing you that you can do better in the future for other people.” He explained thoughtfully, furrowing his brow. “I don’t think there’s going to be anything that really feels like it satisfies your guilt or whatever, because the people who you hurt drew a clear line. So like...y’know. Baby steps. Baby steps towards learning how to manage yourself with a new job, and managing yourself around other people you get to consider your _peers,_ rather than like...pawns in a massively large-scale war.”

G-Man sighed a little. “...Whatever...you feel, is an appropriate first step...I will try to comply with.”

The player nodded enthusiastically. “Okay! Cool. How about...” He paused, putting a hand to his chin before standing and turning towards the door. “Hold on, lemme go do something really quick.”

The player left the apartment, closing the door behind him. G-Man waited patiently, watching the door closely. A few minutes went by before the door began to open again; this time, as G-Man looked past him, he saw a stark, beige wall just beyond the door, part of a hallway. The player himself was carrying something very small and very soft gingerly in his arms: a tiny golden retriever puppy.

“Puppy!” The player said, holding it up as though G-Man couldn’t clearly see what he was holding.

He eagerly approached the table, swiping the bread they were ripping apart aside to set the puppy down. The puppy was eager to investigate the bread, though, not immediately going towards G-Man like he’d seemed to hope. He carefully scooped up all the bread pieces to toss into a nearby garbage can, but the puppy ended up investigating the grocery bags while his back was turned, sticking its entire head in one of them. G-Man reached out, very carefully taking the puppy and lifting it up underneath its arms to pull it away from the bags.

“Awww! Look at you guys.” The player said with a wide smile as he sat down at the table again. “I know it’s not, like, reconciliation for what you did. But I dunno, I guess I just think that having a new long-term task might feel alright. Y’know? At least, I _hope_ so. Long-term task is taking care of another living creature, nurturing it and considering it _your_ responsibility to help it grow up healthy.”

“Long-term?” G-Man questioned. “Dogs only...live, for—approximately 12 Earth years. That’s...hardly, long-term.”

“It’s long-term to the dog.” The player pointed out. “C’mon, I think it’ll be good for you. A _start,_ at least—there’s more stuff you can do with your time other than dog care.”

“What...would you have, me do?” G-Man asked, looking down in to the puppy in his hands. It was wiggling, trying to get back up on the table. He set it down properly in his lap, experimentally running his fingers down its back.

“I don’t know! C’mon, give me something to work with. What do _you_ want?” The player nagged. “Something you’ve never gotten to do, maybe? Like, seriously, now’s your chance for absolutely no consequences for just _trying_ something. All simulated, no real people to hurt, no finances to take a hit to or anything like that. Hit me with anything, I’ll try to make it the best I can for you.”

G-Man sighed, looking down at the puppy. It was getting comfortable on his lap, sniffing his jacket and looking up at him curiously.

“I need, something...that feels...” G-Man grappled for the right words for a moment, “as though it has, a high impact. Something important. I cannot imagine...being happy, with monotony and low importance.”

The player nodded slowly. “...Okay. Yeah, just give me a little bit, and I’ll figure something out.”

****

G-Man wasn’t too proud to admit he may have had some misgivings about the player. At the very least, they each had something in common; an immense shared guilt for their actions towards the Science Team.

They couldn’t always be in contact with the player just being himself. He was running G-Man’s life from the sidelines, which was a strange thing to contend with. In every face he interacted with, although they had a different appearance, voice, and general personality, G-Man could still find traces of the player. He was everywhere, in everything that G-Man did. Strange, but a generally accepted condition of the world he was currently staying in. The world he was considering leaving, actually.

G-Man had, at first, been eager to spend long days at work, working himself to the bone like he was used to. The player had nudged him back from that, though, encouraging him to find a good “work-life balance”—something he despised at first. His ideal work _was_ his life, and he thought he had made that clear to the player. However, after being very literally shoved out the door numerous times by his “boss”, G-Man finally set to finding his balance.

One thing he found balance in was, of course, his dog, who he had named Cherry Cola. The player had a tendency to just call her Cherry, which was slightly annoying to G-Man; removing the “Cola” part of her name removed the whole context. G-Man sat in the park after work, ignoring all the other people walking around as he watched Cherry Cola lounge in the sun. It had been a few years ever since the player had given her to G-Man; she didn’t have as much energy these days, but enjoyed laying freely in the grass quite a lot. Eventually, G-Man stood, calling her name as he determined it was time to go home. She perked up, pushing herself up to her feet and ambling towards him to allow him to hook her leash back on.

G-Man had been frustrated with his job at first. He was a politician of the local government now, as the player had suggested; the player had set this city up as its own independent community, unlike the structure of the American government the player had initially tried to mirror. It was self-sustaining. People took care of each other, and G-Man helped oversee everything to make sure people’s needs were met and concerns were addressed. At first, he’d tried to maximize community efficiency, but he received complaints that he was overworking everyone almost immediately—what did it matter, though? He wondered. They weren’t real. It wasn’t like they actually needed things like “sleep”. The player had pushed back on that, though, reminding him this was a practice run for _real_ people, so G-Man did his best to readjust how he viewed them.

Once he got into a good system with everyone in the community, it grew sort of monotonous from there. That was where he’d gotten particularly fed up with it; the player had requested he stick with it, though, and try to find other things to do with his time. He tried pottery, writing, drawing, playing music—he found a real passion for gardening, though. So as he returned home, he tended to his plants in the community garden, then headed back into the apartment the player had given him with Cherry Cola in tow.

G-Man wasn’t surprised to find the player there. He seemed committed to the whole “roommate” thing, always acting like he was just living there with him. He was used to it. At least this way, the player wasn’t privy to G-Man’s private thoughts once he was home. G-Man removed his jacket in the doorway, watching Cherry Cola pad over to the living room to sit on the couch with the player.

“Hi, Cherry!” The player greeted with a smile. “How was work, G-Man?”

“Just fine.” G-Man replied, the same as always. As if the player didn’t already know how work went. “You?”

“Same as always.” The player said with a shrug.

Of course, G-Man already knew whatever the player would be willing to tell him. He never talked about his own life outside the computer; G-Man had come to terms with that. So, they were committed as always to the bit, pretending their lives weren’t otherwise inherently entwined with one another. Like _this,_ at least. They didn’t _have_ to be.

“I have...something I would, like to request.” G-Man announced as he joined the player and Cherry Cola in the living room. He sat down in his armchair, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

“Yeah?” The player asked curiously.

“...I am...considering leaving the computer.” G-Man confessed.

The player’s casual expression turned sort of cold. He nodded, though, despite the very clear distress in his face. “O-oh! Yeah. Wow. Already?”

“Isn’t this...what you, wanted?” G-Man asked.

“Well, of course! I just...sorta expected it to take longer, is all.” The player said, forcing a casual tone and waving his hand dismissively. “Well...yeah, let’s talk. What kinda world are you thinking?”

G-Man hummed thoughtfully. “I...have found I, quite enjoy what you’ve given me. I’m not sure I would...like any large changes, to be made. Although, of course, I would—like for Cherry Cola, to join me, if possible.”

“Yeah, of course.” The player replied, patting Cherry Cola’s haunches. “...Hm. I mean...yeah. I can make it pretty much the same. It’ll be a whole, broader world, so there’ll sort of inherently be other challenges that come up. Challenges...I can’t help you with.”

G-Man nodded in understanding. “Yes. I’m aware.”

The player nodded as well. “Yeah. Okay. Just—just checking.”

“You seem...rather distressed.”

The player frowned, petting Cherry Cola’s head in his lap. “...Uhh...I guess. I mean, that’s not something you need to be worried about! I’m glad you want to leave, that’s like, a big step for you, and you’ll...get to live a whole normal life, now. That’s great.”

G-Man nodded slowly. “...You are, struggling with...letting go, again.”

The player gave him a surprised look before biting his lip, averting his eyes for a long moment. “...Y-...yeah.”

G-Man sighed a little. “I understand. Clearly, you know...I have trouble, letting go of—control.”

The player laughed a little. “Yeah. I guess I do. But like, again, that’s a _me_ problem, don’t worry about me.”

“I have...no qualms, in letting you—handle that yourself.” G-Man replied bluntly. “I realize that struggle is, your burden to bear. There is...nothing I can do, that will...make it easier, other than leaving you, to your own devices. However, I would like to thank you, for...not giving up on me.”

The player wiped at his face, tears clearly welling up in his eyes. “...No problem, dude, of course.” He said, voice shaking. “God. Sorry. I didn’t wanna start bawling again like I did last time. It’s a good thing you’re leaving. I’m proud of you.”

G-Man stood, stepping close to the player to place his hand on his shoulder. “I trust...you will, do well in the future. You have—proven yourself to be someone who...does his best, to learn from his mistakes. And inspired...me, to do the same.”

The player stood, wrapping his arms around G-Man. Despite the lack of an ability to feel contact, he was oddly insistent on being very touchy—G-Man awkwardly wrapped his arms loosely around him, hoping it was an appropriate enough gesture. The player quickly pulled back, wiping at his face again.

”Thanks for letting me help you out.” The player said, clearly forcing a smile. “I’ll...go ahead and go get everything set up for you. Um...it’ll take a while, there’s a lot more stuff I gotta change from sort of my general structure, so you can just chill here while you wait, if you want.”

G-Man nodded. “That sounds...acceptable.”

The player paused for a long few moments, making a strange motion with his hands that G-Man had come to associate with him fiddling with his controllers. “I’ll be busy setting things up, so I guess this is goodbye for me, then. Umm...g-good luck out there.”

“Same to you.” G-Man replied politely.

The player bent down to give Cherry Cola one last goodbye hug as well before heading for the door. As he opened it, G-Man found the void outside the door—he hadn’t seen the lack of a map in quite a while, actually, he realized with a start. The player paused in the doorway, looking back at G-Man.

“...I know it was rough for a bit. And I’ve apologized a million times, and talked this over with you a million times and all, but...” The player sighed, forcing another smile. “I’m sorry for how things ended up going after the game. I’m happy to see you move on.”

G-Man nodded. “Thank you for...doing, what you can, to make amends.”

The player stayed there for a minute, as if just taking in the sight of G-Man one last time before leaving the apartment, closing the door gently behind him. G-Man set about the remainder of his evening calmly. There was no reason to clean up his apartment or pack anything away, but giving it one last clean was something to occupy his hands as he waited. Eventually, once it had long since grown dark outside, G-Man had grown tired enough of waiting and laid down in his bed, Cherry Cola hopping up to sleep beside him insistently. He’d tried years ago to get her to sleep in her own bed that he provided her, but she always snuck her way up once he’d fallen asleep; so, G-Man had accepted it, and now couldn’t quite imagine sleeping without her there.

>...hey. sorry it's taking a bit, still working on it. if you're going to sleep now, you'll probably wake up in your new world. so...goodnight, g-man.

That sounded acceptable to G-Man. He closed his eyes again, fingers laced together over his stomach.

Goodnight, player.


	60. Gordon

>Uhh, hi everyone!

>Ummmm. Haha, I guess I don't really know what to say right now. Let's see. It's been a few years since Benry did his epilogue. That was in...2009 I think? It's 2011 now.

>Wow. So that means it's been...8 years, since the game. Jesus Christ. I'm 33 now--wait, no, that's not right. I'm...35? Yeah, lol, I just checked my ID, I'm 35, haha. Josh is 10! And today, he's graduating elementary school!

>Oh, god. Him in middle school. I mean, the education system in this world is pretty different and a lot more accommodating than what I was sort of saddled with the memories of, but I can't help but worry a little. Middle school...

>But hey, it's summer break first. We're taking a trip pretty soon, since Josh'll be out of school and Darnold will have that time off--and Tommy, Benry and I can take our vacations whenever--and I probably could've saved my epilogue for that, but...nah, I guess. It's kind of a spur of the moment thing for me, I told everyone yesterday over text that I'm doing mine today, but it felt right to have it be this like...milestone, I guess.

I’m getting ready with Josh to head to the school in a few minutes right now. Between streams, I usually end up going to the school to volunteer to help, so y’know, I’m gonna be helping set up for the official graduation ceremony at the end of the day. Yeah, I’m like, a real PTA dad. I bring baked goods to meetings and EVERYTHING—store bought, but like, you know. Darnold couldn’t take the day off to be here for Josh’s graduation, unfortunately, since the elementary graduation is during the very last school day and Darnold still has his classes to look after. Everyone else’ll be there for the ceremony, though!

Elementary graduation isn’t all that fancy, they didn’t ask for them to be dressed up nice since they’re just little kids, so Josh doesn’t have to wear anything that special. I pack him a quick lunch and hand him his lunchbox.

“You sure you don’t wanna bring your backpack?” I ask him as he accepts his lunchbox.

“Ms. Cross said we didn’t have to!” Joshua argues.

I laugh as he marches towards the front door to put on his shoes. “Well, yeah, but you’re gonna be getting your yearbook. You’ll have to carry that _and_ your lunchbox in your arms. You don’t wanna lose either of those, right?”

“I don’t _wanna_ bring my backpack.” Joshua complains while he pulls on his shoes.

“Okay, okay, if you’re sure.” I give in, pulling on my shoes too.

I make sure to bring a couple towels with us, leaving them in the back seat—every year on the last day of school, some fire truck comes to spray the kids from a distance with water, and the first couple years I kept forgetting, so I’m definitely gonna be prepared for the last time Josh is gonna be experiencing this. When we’re in the car, Josh pats his lunchbox excitedly as he looks out the window. I can’t help but smile at him.

“You excited to be done with elementary school?” I ask.

“Yeah!” He replies.

“I’m glad!” I say. “I’m really, _really_ proud of you, Josh. You did a really good job this year.”

Joshua grins, wiggling excitedly in his seat. “Is Barnaby coming, too?”

“Yeah, I think he’s coming to help set up.” I reply. “Everyone’s gonna be there, ‘cept Darnold.”

“Even the Lambda team?”

“Oh, nahh, just Science Team and Barnaby.” I say, scratching my head. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

We finally pull up at the school, and Josh runs off to join his class. I smile as I watch him go. Man. 10 years old. He’s getting _so_ big. I can’t believe how time flies by.

Well, now that he’s at school, I have a little bit until it’s time to really get in there and help set things up. I figured while I was getting down my schedule for the day I’d have time for a jog before coming back later, so I drive back home so I can take one of my usual shorter routes. I _do_ struggle with chronic fatigue and some joint pain issues, so I don’t jog as much as I remember I used to, but it’s still nice to get my blood flowing in the morning. I also do play sports with the younger Lambda team members, Harold, and Darnold sometimes—that’s a lot of fun.

Speaking of which, looks like Lambda Gordon’s jog is lining up with mine again. That happens a lot—we both tend to alternate our route pretty often, but great minds think alike, I guess. As we’re coming up on each other on the sidewalk, he pauses, still jogging in place to backtrack and join me.

“Hey, man.” I greet breathlessly.

He waves back. We jog for a bit together before we both end up running out of breath at around the same time, pausing at a park bench to take a break. I think he’s got fatigue and pain issues, too, it was just harder to convince him he needs to chill for the first few months after the computer. We’re both quiet for a minute, catching our breath and regaining our strength to actually have any semblance of a conversation.

“What’s up?” Gordon finally asks me once his arms have sort of regained their strength to sign properly.

“Good! I’m going to my son’s graduation today.” I reply, still sort of winded.

“Oh, tell him I said congratulations!”

“I will! What about you?” I ask curiously.

“I’m good. Development on the warp drive is going very smoothly, thanks to Tommy.” Gordon says. “Everyone else in the lab is going to take a vacation the time you go on your trip, too, just to keep things even. Barney and I wanted to take Alyx to a trail in the Appalachian mountains. She got really bored of city trips fast.”

I can’t help but laugh and nod. “Yeah, she seems a little too high-energy to just sort of hang out in the city.”

After a brief time catching up, Gordon and I part ways, and I jog back home to shower before heading back to the school to help set up for the graduation. As I’m about to head in the front door and towards the auditorium where I was told to meet the other volunteers, I see a familiar car pull up. I stand there and wave as Barnaby climbs out of the car.

“Hey, dude!” I call.

Barnaby and I don’t really talk as much as we used to, before the game and everything, to be honest. But he’s still a pretty significant part of Josh’s life, even though we’re past that original agreement about raising him. I don’t really _need_ his specific help anymore, if he wanted to move on completely, but he still ends up watching Josh a lot, anyway. We hang out every now and then too, whenever we’re passing Josh along to one another. We’re the “don’t talk for a bit and then spend a while catching up before moving on” kind of friends, y’know that type? And yes, he met Barney—wow, _that_ was hard to explain. And embarrassing, lmfao. ‘Hey, so this is my ex/friend who I had a kid with, he looks exactly like you and acts a lot like you, and he’s technically sort of an almost clone of you but not really, but your _true_ alternate self from our universe seems to be Benry, who I’m also into’? I mean, what the fuck? But we’ve all come to terms with the fact that reality is fucked up. So we’re past that.

Barnaby and I help set things up pretty quickly, giving us a good amount of spare time before the graduation event. We sit in the lunchroom and catch up for a bit. Barnaby’s been dealing with some issues after spending 20 years in the HL2 universe, actually, but seems to be managing himself pretty well. It’s pretty weird, actually; some aspect of our reality that everyone’s just come to terms with is that there’s some people who remember the Combine and some who don’t. Weird, right? So some have some intense trauma after these worldwide events that others just don’t remember at all. Thank fucking god Barnaby was there, though; Joshua was kept really safe with him, during that time the Science Team was occupied trying to figure out how to get us all home. I don’t know if I’ve thanked him enough for that, to be honest.

Pretty soon, we head back to the gym/auditorium, and other parents and family members start to trickle in and take their seats in metal folding chairs we set out. Tommy arrives first, he’s always been the most punctual out of all of us.

“Hi!” Tommy calls as he approaches. “Sorry I was almost late. Dr.—umm, Dr. Magnusson _really_ wanted me to finish up some calculations before I headed out.”

“Almost late?” I echo with a laugh. “Dude, you’re early.”

“Yeah, but—not as early as I was gonna be.” Tommy murmurs sheepishly.

I snort, indicating to a group of seats that I have reserved for us—perks of being someone who volunteered to help set up. We both sit down, Barnaby on my other side. “How’s work going?” I ask Tommy.

“Good. We, umm—we’re finishing up on the blueprints for the more compact model.” Tommy replies with an excited smile.

“Man. How much more compact can it get?” I ask.

“We’re hoping to—well, it’s like, part of it is we want less fuel intake and—well, and a bunch of other things. It’s—trust me, it’s important.” Tommy says, clearly already a little frazzled after working. Based on what I know of Dr. Magnusson, that’ll do that to a person, I guess. “We think once this version’s finished up though, we’ll be good to start actually building the ship.”

“Oh! Awesome!” I say, squeezing Tommy’s shoulder. “Congrats, man! That’s really cool. It’s been such a long time since you guys started working on that thing.”

Tommy grins. “Thank you, Gordon! I’m really—I’m really excited to get the ship done. Then, we can start actually exploring—I won’t have to do it on my own.”

Oh, yeah, Tommy’s talked to us a little bit about that. Yeah, I’m interested in going on some sort of little expedition; how could you _not_ , when your friend offers you a seat on his spaceship? As long as we don’t go anywhere too wild, of course. Like, you just can’t say no to going to the moon or Mars or something. I guess Tommy’s made it his new lifelong goal to figure out where his dad came from, if wherever that is even technically exists in our new reality. I thought it was sort of a weird choice; he always seemed really disconnected from being part alien, but I guess being forced to tap in to that actually made him think about it a little more. Well, I mean, I fully support it, if that’s what he wants.

Pretty soon after, Benry appears right in the center of the auditorium, looking around in a confused daze for us. He must have just woken up—he usually stays up for like, a week, then sleeps a whole day, so he tried to coordinate to wake up right before the ceremony. I wave him over, and he eagerly walks over to plop down beside Tommy. “Sup, guys.” He greets, getting comfortable in his seat.

“Hey, Benry.” I say, reaching over Tommy to pat his upper arm.

Benry sings sweet voice back at me to say hi—it’s a special color combination for a greeting he only uses for me, though. It’s pretty cute.

Bubby and Harold end up arriving just on time after that, hastily taking their seats as the kids are starting to file in and get ready for the graduation.

“Sorry we’re a little late!” Harold apologizes quietly. “We lost track of time.”

“ _He_ lost track of time.” Bubby corrects.

“Oh, fine, you’re right.” Harold admits with a smile, nudging them with his elbow.

I laugh quietly, glancing up as Joshua’s getting settled in his spot and waving at him. “It’s fine, you’re right on time.” I tell Harold and Bubby.

The graduation is super cute, and Benry’s sure to take plenty of pictures to capture it. The upside of this world is smaller class sizes, so everyone gets to have really quick, one-minute graduation speeches they prepared before the ceremony. Joshua says some completely random shit about how he’s excited to leave elementary school and immediately pursue a career in being a fisherman. I guess that’s a running joke he has with his class, everyone seems to latch onto that. I can’t help but laugh, too—I mean, maybe it sounds like I’m bragging, but y’know, I think my kid’s really funny.

He accepts his little graduation certificate and sits back down, getting distracted by his friends while another classmate begins her own speech. When the ceremony’s over, so is the school day, and Joshua gets up to greet us. I hug him tight, Barnaby patting his back.

“Nice work!” I tell him with a grin. “How’s it feel to be officially done with elementary school?”

“Good.” Joshua replies happily.

Everyone else really takes the time to praise Joshua on graduating in their own ways. Joshua soaks up the attention as we start to head back outside. We all say bye to Barnaby before he heads off to his car, and I lean back against the wall with my friends while Joshua runs along with his own friends to get super soaked by that fire truck, spraying water high in the air to sprinkle down on all the kids. Man, they need it, too, it’s _super_ hot out today. I fan myself using Josh’s yearbook, holding his lunchbox for him under my other arm. Because, you know, if you tell your kid they’re gonna have to hold onto something themself, that usually means _you’re_ gonna be the one holding it. That’s fine, though, it’s a special day for him.

“Would you like to go out anywhere special today?” Harold asks me, looping an arm around my shoulders.

“Well.” I reply, looking at Joshua. “I asked what Josh wants to do. I told him we can go to any restaurant he wants for dinner.”

“Where did he choose?” Tommy asks.

“Chuck E. Cheese.”

“Oh, but Gordon, Chuck E. Cheese’s isn’t—” Harold starts, stopping when Bubby grips his arm.

“Oh, don’t you start.” I say to Harold seriously. “Don’t you start trying to tell me it isn’t a restaurant, man, Chuck E. Cheese is a _restaurant,_ they serve _food_ there, they have the pizza and the salad bar!”

“Well, yeah, Gordon, but is a—umm, is a dine-in theater a restaurant, then?” Tommy asks. “Or a bowling alley? Or a hotel?”

“I mean—it’s different!” I argue.

“Guys. _Guys._ It’s in between. It’s _both._ ” Bubby interrupts flatly.

“Centrist.” Harold huffs.

“What?!” Bubby asks incredulously.

“Chuck E. Cheese is a barcade for kids.” Benry chimes in.

We go back and forth on Chuck E. Cheese for...kind of a long time, while Joshua enjoys himself with his friends. But eventually, Joshua comes running back after the fire truck leaves, and I help him towel off before getting in the car. Benry climbs in with us, even though he could definitely teleport home. He sits in the passenger seat while Josh sits in the back, going back over his yearbook signatures fondly.

“So. Epilogue day.” Benry says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “How’s that feel so far?”

“Good.” I reply with a nod. “I mean—I don’t want that to overshadow the graduation or anything. So I don’t want it to be a huge deal. It just felt right, y’know?”

Benry nods. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

“How’s the development for multiplayer coming along?” I ask Benry.

Benry shrugs. “It’s fine. I wanted to add some extra shit for that, so it’s gonna take a while. But it’s something to do.”

I nod, turning to drive up into our cul-de-sac. “Nice, that’s cool. What kind of stuff were you thinking of adding?”

“Dunno just yet.” Benry says while he unbuckles his seatbelt. “I guess I’ll think of something.”

Once we’re in the house, I get Josh to head upstairs and shower and change. I sit down on the couch with Benry while he’s occupied with that, glancing at the little time display I asked Bubby to add to my arm. I was thinking we’d head out at around 5, or later if Darnold needs that extra time for anything, but I’m pretty sure he mentioned to me he’d be taking off early today. So we’ve got a little bit of time to kill. We start to play video games together for a bit. It’s good—I like the quiet time with Benry, where we’re just...chilling. It’s fun to get into our back-and-forth like we always do, but once that sorta became our _thing_ for Justin.TV streams, it’s good to just _exist_ with him.

“Hey, I was thinking maybe next stream, we could do uhhh—that Portal co-op.” Benry comments pretty quickly after we get involved in a game.

“Oh, yeah.” I reply with a nod. “Hey, isn’t it so weird that Portal like, apparently takes place in the same universe as Half Life? And we’re all here, but I guess the Portal guys aren’t?”

Benry shrugs. “Iunno. Probably an oversight on the player’s part. Maybe they _are_ here. Chell might still be down there, bro.”

“Oh, god.” I say with a laugh. “I mean, I’ll have to do some sorta Google search to see if Aperture’s like, _real._ ”

“Yeah, here, let’s see.” Benry drops his controller to pull out his phone and taps away at it for a second. “...Nah. I guess not. That’s lame.”

I pause for a moment, looking at him as he stares down at his phone. He’s kinda changed up how he dresses sometimes. That’s nice. I can sympathize with having a very particular sameness to the way you dress for simplicity—this is all coming from Gordon “band t-shirts and cargo shorts” Freeman—but he’s putting a little more thought into it sometimes for special occasions. I mean, it’s not too different in vibes today—jeans, one of the t-shirts from my merch store, and his usual hat, but it’s stuff that actually fits him properly and looks actually cared for, so it’s...

Okay. Well. You know. It’s cute. I’ll just say it—I like Benry a lot. It took a lot of shifting how I view him, honestly, to get to this point. I guess I didn’t expect myself to see him this way at first, considering how much I hung onto what happened in the game. And I guess that’s not something I’ve genuinely let go of, either, it’s just...the game was complicated, we’re all pretty different now, him especially! His whole obnoxious gamer schtick gets more fun to vibe with when we’re on the same page, and he’s just...he’s gotten better about boundaries and timing, and learning when to ease back and stuff. He doesn’t really put up that wall around me, anymore, where everything he does has to be a joke, god forbid he be genuine for a minute. We can just sit down and talk without it getting weird. Especially now, since like, he’s getting better about existing independently, I guess? Feels less like he’s an inherently inseparable part of my life, and more like...well, we simply don’t _want_ to separate. We could if we needed to, or wanted to. There’s a whole world of other places to go if we decided we hated each other suddenly, but...well, why would we?

He always knows how to get me to laugh, and is surprisingly in tune with what I need when I’m having a hard time, and he actually opens up and lets me help him for real, too. It’s nice. He’s really come a long way. I just—yeah, well, y’know, I don’t need to go on a whole tangent about it, you guys fucking saw me confess to him already, you know I like him. Benry seems to notice I’m staring a little bit and grins.

“Hey, Gordon Gayman.” He says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me in close.

I snort, letting him drag me down to his level, but I knock his hat off his head just to bug him. He always keeps his hair buzzed short—he’s kinda particular about it, actually, I think he just hates the sensation of his own hair on his neck or something. He lets me buzz it for him, though, so it looks more even and styled than it used to. “Hey, dude.”

Benry sighs dramatically, not automatically going for his hat. It’s definitely a comfort thing, I know it is, but he has a tendency to take it off when it’s just us, so taking it off to bug him isn’t a huge deal. Things have been really good, actually; I know he was sorta nervous before we started dating about how things might change. He likes things to be very particular ways, and I understand that. And it hasn’t always been perfect, obviously, we kinda have to work around each other in unexpected ways, but we make it work. The progression of our relationship has been really, really great. Man, if you’d told me when I first met him we’d end up here...

We’re quickly joined by Joshua once he’s done showering. He’s clearly eager to go—he’s at that age where he kind of tries to act a lot more chill to seem more grown up, but he’s still wiggling a little bit while he plays games with us, looking at the time over and over.

Soon, Harold and Bubby invite themselves over to wait with us, and then Tommy and Darnold pop in to give the word that they’re ready to go, too. We all pile into my car together and head into the Chuck E. Cheese behind Joshua. Harold and Bubby take a seat while the rest of us engage Josh with some of the games, but I guess a couple of his friends also coordinated to try and be here tonight—he runs off with them as soon as they get here.

Huh. To be honest...that makes me a little sad—I was sorta looking forward to spending the evening playing games with him. I’m not usually all that into arcade games actually, but it’s fun to watch Josh enjoy himself and talk to him about the games and everything. I sit down with Harold and Bubby, joined shortly by Tommy, Darnold, and Benry. I watch Josh play with his friends while the others order some pizza.

“What’s the matter, Gordon?” Darnold asks. “You haven’t touched your pizza.”

“...Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Now, Gordon, if you’re upset, you can talk to us!” Harold says, reaching over the table to place one of his hands on my own.

I laugh a little, waving my other hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Y’know. Just—average dad thoughts, I guess.”

“...He’s growing up pretty fast, isn’t he?” Benry asks. He’s got a similar look on his face that I feel like I probably must have. It’s really sweet, seeing him get so attached to Josh in the way I am, but...man.

I nod, glancing back at him. “Yeah. I mean, 10 isn’t that old. It’s just...you know. That thing where it’s like...well, if he’s going to middle school soon, that means he’s almost in high school, and if he’s almost in high school, he might as well be packing up for college already. Y’know?”

Benry jabs my arm playfully. “He’s got at _least_ 3 years before college, bro.”

I jab him back with a chuckle. “Shut up, dude.”

“Yeah, Gordon, you have plenty of time.” Bubby says, leaning their head into their hand. “Even once he reaches the age where he moves out, he’s not going to magically stop being your son. It’s fine, having kids who live their own lives. They don’t _disappear_. They’re still a part of your life.”

“Awww, bro. You and your uhh, 2 human and 2 alien kids.” Benry teases them.

“Wh—that’s not what I meant!” Bubby snaps, face going red. “Don’t talk to me. I hate you. All of you are dead to me.”

I can’t help but laugh. I know they’re embarrassed and everything, but it’s sweet—based on their reaction, I’m sure Benry was right on the mark there. Harold wraps an arm around Bubby with a smile.

“They’re right, though, Gordon.” Harold adds. “While the two of us were too old to officially have children of our own by the time we finally left Black Mesa, it’s been very nice, viewing you all as family to us. And just because you’re all operating as independent adults doesn’t change anything about how we view you.”

“So—it’s...not the end of the world, once he gets older, is all I was trying to say.” Bubby mutters.

I smile at them both. “Awwww. You guys are so sweet. Yeah, I mean—...to be honest, I don’t really remember much of my parents. But what I do remember, they kinda sucked anyway.” I say, brushing my fingers through my hair in embarrassment. “So...y-yeah. I guess I’ve sorta viewed you two...like my own dads.”

I look back up at them, gauging their reactions. Harold gets that emotional look on his face, already tearing up with a big smile, but holy shit, that _really_ gets Bubby. They immediately start wiping at their eyes and sniffle.

“Whoa, you just killed Bubby in one shot.” Darnold laughs.

“Sh-shut up!” Bubby snaps again, their voice cracking. “I’m not—I just got grease in my eyes. This pizza fucking sucks.”

Wow. We’re all having a really emotional moment in a Chuck E. Cheese. Full circle, right?

“I mean, that goes for all of you in a way—you’re all, like...really important to me.” I tell them, turning to Benry, Tommy, and Darnold. “The circumstances we met in were really weird and fucked up, but man, I’m _really_ glad we did meet. Even if things went really bad a couple times, it’s meant the world to me that I get to have you guys as my family.”

“I’m really glad too, Gordon!” Darnold says, reaching over the table to squeeze my forearm. “I’m really, really happy that I’ve gotten to spend the time to get to know you, since like, we didn’t really know each other in Black Mesa.”

“Of course, man, same goes for you!” I say to him.

“I am so, _so_ truly happy to be here with you all in this Chuck E. Cheese tonight!” Harold says, reaching with his extendo-arms to awkwardly hug us all around the table, but he’s mostly just pinning us against the round table. That’s fine, though.

We all eat together, Joshua eventually joining us after getting too hungry to put off eating any longer. The rat does his weird performances, and man, there’s really something about the Chuck E. Cheese costume that seems to unlock some kind of rage in Harold. He holds back this time around, though—and even Josh isn’t really that impressed by it all anymore, so pretty soon, we just head home. Darnold and I head into the kitchen once we all get back to my house, and I pull out a box of cake mix.

“Oh— _Gordon._ When we agreed to bake a cake together, I’d assumed you wouldn’t stoop this low.” Darnold scolds me, plucking the box out of my hand.

I laugh in surprise. “Well, I’m not really good at baking! What, do _you_ have a recipe in mind?”

“Give me a sec, I’ll run home and grab my cookbook.” Darnold sighs in mock exasperation as Tommy sits down at the counter. Everyone else is in the living room, starting up a TV show of Josh’s choice to watch while they wait for the cake. Tommy watches Darnold go with a fond smile.

“What, does he normally bake at your house?” I ask Tommy.

“He’s—he’s getting a little more into it.” Tommy replies with a laugh, leaning his head into his palm. “His biggest passion is potions, still, but he’s—I mean, baking is a lot like chemistry. So he’s branching out.”

“How’s it been going with him?” I ask while I start pulling things out I’m sure we’ll need.

“Good!” Tommy says. “I’m, umm—...don’t tell him. But...I’m thinking of proposing.”

I give him a wide, excited smile. “Oh my god! That’s fantastic! You have any ideas how you’re gonna propose yet?”

Tommy waves his hand. “Umm—I don’t think so. I mean, we’ve talked about it theoretically already. I don’t...wanna go too wild like Dr.—I mean, Harold and Bubby did. Something small and private.”

“That makes sense.” I say, nodding and setting out a stack of mixing bowls. “That’s really sweet. I’m really excited for you guys.”

“Thanks, Gordon.” Tommy replies with a shy smile. “What about Benry?”

“It’s been good.” I reply, glancing towards the living room. “I’m glad I finally ended up biting the bullet and saying something to him, y’know? Things have been really, really good.”

“Nerd.” Benry calls from the living room.

“Fine, I take it all back!” I call back, but I’m definitely smiling.

Darnold returns with his cookbook, then, flipping through for the recipe he had in mind. It’s pretty fun baking with him, actually. He takes it _very_ seriously, but at the same time, he gets that really flat, serious tone when he’s saying something ridiculous that’s hard not to crack up at. Once the cake’s in the oven, Darnold also grabs some stuff to make fun potions with as well—a couple of Josh’s favorites from when he was running the potions shop, as well as other requests. I used to get sort of a kneejerk disgust/fear response to the potions after the game, sadly, but I started trying some of his less... _regenerative_...potions, and damn, he’s good at what he’s passionate about. Once everything’s done, we call everyone back up for cake and potions.

Josh seems like he’s having a really good day. He loves the potions and the cake—maybe too much, he eats a little too fast and ends up making himself kinda sick—and everyone’s being really sweet to him. He seems so happy...I think all things considered, I’ve really been doing my best for him these days. It was rough at first, after the resonance cascade—and, in a way, so soon after I even started _existing_ —but I feel like my health’s really improved in these past few years. So I can really put in my all for him, you know? Especially with so much help and support from everyone else.

Eventually, everyone gets tired and ends up going back home. I let Josh stay up late to play games for a bit, since y’know, it’s summer break now and everything. I do end up easing him to bed before it gets too late, though, and spend a little while with Benry before I start packing up to head on upstairs to sleep myself.

“Hey, I’m gonna head to bed. You coming with?” I ask him, draping the blanket from my bed Benry dragged down here over my shoulders.

Benry nods, scooping up his laptop. “Yeah, I just slept, but I’ll hang out.”

We both head upstairs, and Benry gets settled in my bed. I lay down on his chest, and he sets his laptop on top of me. I actually sleep like this a lot. I thought it’d be kind of annoying when we first ended up like this, but it’s nice—I mean, I’ve always liked background noise when I sleep.

“Night, dude.” I say to Benry.

“Night.” Benry replies. He leans down to kiss my head, but I turn to catch him on the lips, which I guess he expected, because he starts singing sweet voice at me.

“Ugh! C’mon.” I groan. He laughs and kisses me for real, and I settle back down against him.

I guess it’s about time for my epilogue to end, then, in that case? Huh. Well—oh.

“Dad? Benry?” Josh’s voice calls into my room.

I turn my head towards the door to look at him, Benry pausing the quiet music he had playing and waving. “Yeah, bud?”

“...Can I sleep in here?”

I nod, rolling off Benry, and we both rearrange a little bit so I can lay down properly next to Josh. He climbs in and gets comfortable, breathing out a deep sigh of relief. Man, it’s a really good thing I went ham and splurged on a big bed.

“You feeling alright?” I ask him.

Josh frowns, looking up at the ceiling and not replying.

“You get that bad feeling again?” I press.

He glances at me uncomfortably and nods.

I sigh, draping a comforting arm over him. “I’m sorry. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here.”

Benry moves, and we have to shuffle again, so he can be beside Josh too. He doesn’t say anything, but he puts a comforting hand on him.

I see other parents talking about how you’re “not supposed” to let your kids come sleep with you if they’re upset. “They’ll be in high school and climbing into bed with you”, “they’ll never learn to be independent”, etc, etc—well, I always wanna ask them, how could you have the heart to say no to your kid in a time like this? How could you expect your kid to feel comfortable coming to you if they’re struggling in the future, if you turn them away when they’re seeking comfort? I mean, I feel like turning them away could just too easily contribute to teaching them they can’t ever seek help, which sucks! I don’t want that for Josh. I want him to know how to ask for help, and that he always deserves to have people who’ll have his back, y’know?

I don’t know. That’s how I think of it, at least. Plus...however much I’d hoped Joshua wouldn’t be affected by everything, the periods of time where I’d disappear and terrifying things would happen around him without his dad are sure to at least impact him a _little_ bit. He gets nightmares and anxiety attacks, sometimes, or imposing feelings like something bad is about to happen. It really fucking sucks, seeing my kid suffering like this.

“You wanna talk about it?” I ask Joshua gently.

Joshua rolls over to look at me. “What happened when we were in that other world? When everything started disappearing, and you seemed like you were dying.”

I sigh again a little, brushing my hair out of my face. We’ve sort of talked about this before, but I never really go too-in depth on my own experiences with it. It was a lot for me to process, and I don’t know how much of it is even genuinely helpful for him to hear. But I talked to my therapist a little bit about all this, asked what she thinks I should say to him, and I guess trying to be more honest about what I went through and how it affected me, combined with the steps I’m taking to take care of myself, sets a good example and promotes emotional honesty between us or something. I hope. I’m doing my best.

“Well...it’s a really, _really_ long story.” I say with a laugh. “Umm...well, let’s see. How do I even start? Uhh—well...”

“The place we went was different from where we are now.” Benry cuts in, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on Josh’s shoulder. “Part of the issue was that there was, like, it could only handle so much before it started breaking down. Y’know? Like when I was showing you some of the problems I was having with my game the other day.”

Josh nods in understanding.

“Yeah.” I say, nodding gratefully at Benry. “But we’re all in a place that doesn’t really have that as an issue, anymore. So it won’t happen again.”

“Why not?” Joshua asks worriedly. “Are you _sure_ it won’t?”

I nod, ruffling his hair. “Yeah. I’m sure. Our world now is a lot more, like...stable, I guess. It was scary though, wasn’t it?”

Joshua nods too.

“Yeah. It’s okay if you’re still freaked out about it. I am too, sometimes.” I say gently. “It’s natural to feel that way after something like that happens, even if you know for sure it’s not gonna happen again. It’s like—you know, umm, how Harold was telling you about how he has muscle memory with the saxophone, and that’s how he remembers the songs he plays? It’s kinda like that. Your body and your brain still react to things automatically, because that’s how we protected ourselves from danger back in like, caveman days or whatever. Something like that.”

Joshua nods again.

“You remember before all that happened, that time when you went and stayed with Darnold and Tommy for a week?” I ask him.

“Not really.”

“Ah. Well, yeah, you went and stayed with them for a week while I was struggling pretty bad. I was having a hard time with still feeling like I was in danger, even though I knew I was safe.” I say carefully. “I didn’t know how to handle it at first. But y’know, it gets easier if you talk to people you trust about it. You can always talk to me or Benry or anyone else in the Science Team about what happened. I know having them around helped me a lot. I still kinda struggle with it, but we have people to turn to when we’re having a hard time. They’re there for me, I’m there for them, and we’ll all always be here for you, too.”

Joshua moves in to hug me, sighing as he gets comfortable against me. “...Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course.” I say, rubbing his back gently as Benry messes up his hair with a sort of sad look. “Hey, I just might cancel tomorrow’s stream. What do you wanna do for your first day of summer break tomorrow?”

“...Can we go to the amusement park?”

“Oh, hell yeah, let’s do it.” I say, hugging him a little closer to my chest.

Joshua settles in more comfortably with me to sleep. “G’night, Dad. Night, Benry.”

“Night.” Benry replies, turning back to work on his computer one-handed.

I smile, closing my eyes and getting a little more comfortable as well. “Night, guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the firetruck thing is something they used to do at my old elementary school when i was just a kid and nothing will ever match the excitement of running outside on the last day of school just to get hosed down by a firetruck................


	61. Dr. Coomer

>Hello, viewers! Today is the day I've chosen to start my epilogue!

>Bubby was right, when we spoke about choosing a time for an epilogue. They told me I would know the opportunity when I saw it, and have assured me since then that whatever I choose doesn't need to feel perfect. Well, what I ultimately ended up choosing was a time we're all getting together, anyway--a very exciting time! Today's the day we embark on the second experimental space expedition!

>It's really just a test trip; the Lambda team took the first test run, considering Joshua is of age for a space expedition now and we wanted to be certain it would be safe. They went to the moon! I found myself rather disappointed I wasn't going to be seeing the moon myself, personally, but WE'RE going to Mars!

>Ahh, speaking of Joshua...my goodness, he's 15 now! I can hardly believe how time flies by. 13 years since the game...

>And...well. Let's face it: I'm not going to live forever. I'd better do my epilogue now, while I still have a little bit of steam left in me for something exciting like this. Thankfully, due to the fact that I do very literally run on steam in some parts of my body these days, we have successfully extended the amount of activities I can still partake in, at my age! Thank goodness for good old fashioned cybernetic enhancements.

>I suppose I did put it off a little bit. Darnold and Bubby talked a little bit about how it provided them closure; Gordon was a little more dismissive of the notion, but I suppose if you wait too long, maybe it won't have the same effect. I've certainly waited a while. I suppose it has something to do with the fact that...well, I've wondered for a while if I even want "closure". But that thought is difficult for me to articulate, so I hope you all understand where I'm coming from.

>I figured, though, I might as well get one in. Better late than never, right, viewers? But I suppose I've talked long enough about my choices. I ought to get into it now, shouldn't I? Let's see here...

“So—as you all know, travel via Lambda shuttle is not instant. It will take time to get to your destination.” Dr. Magnusson said, reading off of a clipboard. Goodness gracious, I’m still held together with cybernetic enhancements, but I think that man just runs on sheer willpower and spite alone. While Dr. Vance and Dr. Kleiner have retired already (though it took some convincing on Kleiner’s end), Dr. Magnusson has refused to step out of the lab himself. “You’ve all completed your training on operating the shuttle, so...”

“Training? Huh?” Gordon asked. “Wait—was I supposed to do training?”

“ _Dr. Freeman,_ did you not complete your training?!” Dr. Magnusson questioned incredulously. “Even Benry completed the training, I recall the day he came in!”

“Huh?” Benry asked from another area of the hangar bay, currently occupied with looking over one of the model HEV mark 7s.

“I kept reminding you!” Joshua chastised.

“It’s _fine,_ Dr. Magnusson, even if there’s an emergency, the controls are super straightforward.” Alyx told him. “I’m sure he’ll be able to figure it out if he needs to. I mean, this is _Gordon_ we’re talking about.”

“That’s exactly my concern.” Dr. Magnusson grumbled.

I watched as our Gordon was nudged by the Lambda Gordon while Dr. Magnusson turned his attention back to his clipboard.

“The training is only 15 minutes, pretty much just to tell you to follow the prompts on the control panel. It’ll be fine.” Lambda Gordon reassured him. “Dr. Magnusson is just a—”

“I can still see you, Dr. Freeman.” Dr. Magnusson huffed.

Our Gordon snorted before struggling to put on his best “paying attention” face.

“Now, the rest of us have all completed our training—I’m very eager to get going.” I told Dr. Magnusson, eyeing the Lambda shuttle excitedly. “May we board the ship, please?”

“I still have _very_ important details to go over with you all, before you even set foot on the Lambda shuttle.” Dr. Magnusson said, holding up his clipboard. “Now...the Lambda shuttle’s warp drive, as it is now, can only operate in short bursts. If our projections are correct and the drive is handled correctly, it will take you 27 hours and 3.8 minutes to arrive at Mars. You are encouraged to avoid using the entry/landing protocols, as those are only there in case of a warp failure—”

Tommy sighed deeply, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s just go.” He said to me.

“Mr. Coolatta—” Dr. Magnusson protested.

“It’s fine, I know this ship inside and out, I can have Gordon go over—umm, go over the training sequence and tell them all of this myself.” Tommy insisted. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

Tommy reached up to the ship, pressing a few buttons on the outer panel to open the door. It unlocked with a _hiss,_ Bubby standing perhaps a little too close to where the ramp was going to extend. As soon as the ramp was down and the door was open, they were inside the ship in an instant, Joshua quickly following suit behind them. I hardy spared Dr. Magnusson a glance as I boarded myself—while I believe he may be my Lambda team counterpart, I’ve found him to be rather unpleasant to be around—smiling as I watched everyone deposit their bags wherever they happened to get bored of holding them, quickly turning their focus to anything that caught their eye. Bubby and I know the ship well at this point; we provided our help building it here and there, after all.

Tommy leaned against the end of the control panel as he took Gordon through the training sequence, taking spare moments while Gordon was working to fill us all in on the details of the expedition that we already knew. Originally, Dr. Magnusson had insisted this wasn’t a field trip, we weren’t there to play, etc, etc—but Tommy informed us he wasn’t interested in listening to Dr. Magnusson’s schedule once we arrived on Mars, and we’d take the time we wanted to look around and revel in being in space again.

“Ahhh, Tommy, how this reminds me of how you were back in Black Mesa.” I said, putting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “You truly took orders from no one but yourself.”

“What? I listen—I listened to the safety protocols.” Tommy protested.

“Not that _one_ time.” Bubby reminded him. “Remember how you scared us half to death, running into the Nihilanth’s enclosure?”

“Well—that was different.” Tommy said dismissively. “I listen to Dr. Magnusson, too, it’s just—it’s just that sometimes, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Or he’s being annoying.” Darnold filled in.

“...Yeah. Or that.” Tommy admitted with a sheepish smile.

“You’ve come such a long way since Black Mesa, though.” I can’t help but reminisce, wrapping an arm around him to pull him into a side hug. “Look at all of this that you’ve accomplished! I’m so, so proud of you, Tommy.”

Tommy grinned, hugging me back. “Thanks, Harold.”

“Okay! I think I’m done with the sequence.” Gordon sighed, leaning back from the control panel and looking up at Tommy. “Are we good to go, then?”

“Well, if you completed the sequence, then—umm, you’re already sitting there. Do you wanna do the honors?” Tommy asked, nodding to the panel.

“Oh—uhh, yeah, sure.” Gordon said, a little bit of anxiety in his tone as he tapped the screen again. “Oookay. Uhh—let’s see, here.”

I couldn’t help but hover over his shoulder a little as he began plotting our course. Tommy did as well, as did Bubby.

“Guys! A little space, please?” Gordon said, glancing up at us.

“We’re gonna be getting a _lot_ of space in a sec.” Benry pointed out with a teasing smile.

“Shut up, man.” Gordon laughed, continuing with plotting our course. “Okay. Um, does this look right?”

Tommy leaned in to check his work, nodding as he went over the warp points. “Yeah. That looks good. Nice work, Gordon.”

“Real smart boy, over here.” Benry said as he appeared by Bubby’s side, leaning on the control panel. “Dr. Freeman’s got his certification in pressing buttons.”

Gordon pressed his palm to Benry’s face so he could push him off the panel, laughing as he nudged him away. “Shut up, dude, you’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but you loooove it.” Benry chided with a massive grin.

Gordon rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Are we going?” Joshua asked impatiently.

Tommy glanced down at his watch. “Yeah, umm—we did all the checks earlier, so we’re good to go, whenever everyone’s ready. You all—are you all sure you have everything?”

We all glanced vaguely back at our bags and agreed we had packed everything. It’s only a short trip, after all; it’s not the end of the world if one of us forgets, say, a phone charger, for instance.

“Okay.” Tommy said, pressing a button on the other end of the control panel. “Miss Vance? We’re—umm, we’re ready to go.”

“Alright! I’ll get everyone out of the hangar bay and let you know when to start it up.” Alyx replied.

“Wait!” Benry exclaimed suddenly, disappearing. He reappeared a few moments later holding a pizza box from last night, opening it to pull out a cold slice. “Okay. I’m good.”

“Benry, we have—we have food in here.” Tommy pointed out.

“Yeah, but like...” Benry gestured vaguely down at the remainder of the pizza. “Y’know.”

“He’s right, Tommy, it would be a shame if the leftovers went bad.” I agreed.

“Okay, you guys are good to go.” Alyx announced. “Good luck! Have fun out there!”

Gordon accepted the course on the touchpad, then moved to the switch contained in a plastic box built into the control panel. He opened the box on its hinge and threw the switch, and instantly, we could hear the warp drive beginning to warm up. I took Bubby’s hand in my own, squeezing it tightly in excitement. Bubby gave me an unreserved smile. They’ve been so excited for this trip, they could hardly sleep last night—I certainly can’t blame them!

It was a little anti-climactic after a little bit, remembering how long it takes the warp drive to charge up. Hence, why it will take a little while to get to Mars. I eased myself down in one of the chairs, quickly accompanied by Bubby. The main room of the ship was, as one would expect, fairly small; there were the two main chairs set at the control panel at the front of the room, the captain’s chair and an additional chair beside it, along with seats set to either side of the room facing inward towards each other. It looked like an interesting blend between a proper spaceship and the customized interior of a bowling alley enthusiast’s van, due to the carpeting on the floor and walls with 90’s-esque space themed designs. The seat belts on the seats weren’t necessary while simply warping—they were for emergency travel protocols, in case of warp failure, so we simply got comfortable as we waited for the drive to charge up. Gordon put on his seatbelt nervously, though, as did Darnold, once he took a seat beside me.

“Oh, Darnold, there’s no need to be nervous.” I reassured him, nudging him with my elbow. “This shuttle has been very thoroughly tested, and is 98.62% safe!”

“Yeah, have a little faith in your husband’s work.” Bubby said.

Darnold nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I—yeah, I totally trust it.” He said, forcing a smile. “It’s...yup. It’s gonna be totally fun. I have total faith in everything that’s happening right now.”

“Wait, 98.62?” Gordon asked, turning in the captain’s chair beside Tommy. “What’s with the rest of that percentage?”

“Well, freak accidents _can_ always happen, Gordon.” Bubby huffed, crossing their arms. “You can’t expect _everything_ to be perfectly safe. This thing is safer than driving a car.”

“It’s true, statistically—there’s umm, less chance of something going wrong.” Tommy agreed, resting each elbow on either armrest to lace his fingers together over his stomach and crossing one leg over the other. “It’s fully automated, less chance for human error—Benry helped a lot with the AI, too.”

Benry made a peace sign as he lounged on the floor beside Sunkist.

Gordon shuddered a little. “Hold on, maybe we should—”

The warp drive made a sudden, muffled bursting noise, and the lights that poured in from the lookout ports suddenly vanished. Gordon and Darnold both let out a surprised yelp as we passed through the void for a short time before everything went still again, the warp drive going quiet to cool down. Bubby was on their feet in an instant to look out one of the ports. I stood with a grunt to join them and look outside. We were, indeed, in space, as advertised—we could see Earth below us.

“Whoa.” Bubby breathed.

“It’s...beautiful.” I said quietly, leaning against Bubby and looping an arm around their waist.

After a brief moment spent in awed silence, Bubby turned away suddenly.

“Eh. Been there, done that.” They said, moving to a port on the opposite side to look out at the space ahead of us.

Gordon let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh as he looked out another port with Joshua. “Hey, yeah, I guess this isn’t too bad. I mean—safer than the whole thing where you gotta like, physically exit the atmosphere and everything.”

“You okay, Darnold?” Tommy asked with an amused smile, moving to sit down by his side where I was previously sitting.

Darnold closed his eyes and nodded. “Yup. I’m just—y’know, I’m too comfortable to move, y’know? Nice choice on the seats. _Very_ comfortable. I might just sit right here for the rest of the trip and not move.”

I finally approached Bubby again to look out the port they were currently staring out. They were drumming their fingers excitedly on the wall beneath the window. I leaned in close with them again to look outside.

There was a part of me that got anxious, looking outside. Although it was currently being disproven to me as we stared out the port, he was nervous about the idea of exiting the map again.

 _There is no map, anymore._ I reminded him gently. _This is a genuine expedition into space. This is real—as real as it could ever be for us._

He felt a little more at ease as I held Bubby close, taking in the sensation of their body heat against mine, feeling the tacky carpeted wall. Reminding myself of where I currently was, outside of the game, in the present year of 2017.

 _This is real._ Another part of me echoed. I certainly get many moments where it feels strange to remember that we’re, at the very least, outside of the computer; in a world that could be approximated as “real”. Parts of me get stuck, sometimes, believing that at any moment, reality is going to shatter around us and we’ll simply disappear. But, well—that most certainly hasn’t happened yet, and there’s no reason to suspect that it will, anymore.

“Are you alright?” Bubby asked me, finally having torn their eyes away from the port to look at me.

I nodded. “Of course, dear. It’s just strange, is all.”

“Should I do anything to help?”

I took their hand they wore their wedding ring on, holding it up to look at our matching rings. That’s another thing that always grounds me a little bit—with the way parts of me get mentally stuck in other times, before our marriage, that little reminder is always a nice way to bring me back to where we are now.

“Just be here.” I told them with a smile.

“Oh my god—wait, I think I left the stove on at home.” Gordon gasped suddenly.

Benry laughed loudly from the floor as Gordon sprinted back to the console to call the Lambda team.

Gordon had, in fact, forgotten to turn off the stove, upon Lambda Gordon’s investigation—he had to squeeze in through an unlocked window—but all was well by the time we had gotten truly settled in. Tommy coaxed Darnold out of his seat to help him make dinner in another room, Darnold’s choice of music muffled by the automatic sliding door. We could hear them laughing together as they cooked—young love is so beautiful, isn’t it?

Once they were done cooking, they brought the food back into the main room. There were a great number of converting panels in the room—we folded up the main seats and stepped off to the corners of the room so Tommy could press a button to open the floor up, revealing a dining table and booth seats built into the floor—the type of dining area you step down into using a little staircase. We all sat down to eat together; we normally are a pretty loud bunch when we’re all gathered together, but that was definitely amplified by our excitement to be in space as we ate our dinner.

I love these people very, very much. I love how we still get to enjoy adventures like this together—the excitement didn’t end, once we left the computer! How wonderful is that? Moving on from what we went through was never going to be the end of it all. It may not seem it to you all, but truly, it felt like just the beginning for us. I suppose I had prepared myself so heavily for the idea that we may disappear at any moment; what can you do, in a situation like that, but simply accept it may happen? But now, I know we’re never going to meet any such unfair end. I’m so grateful I get to have the time to enjoy my life with my family. Goodness, I’m tearing up a little just thinking about it.

“Harold, are you good?” Gordon asked through a mouthful of spaghetti.

I nodded. “I’m fine, Gordon, thank you. Just reminiscing.”

Benry, already done practically inhaling his food, draped himself across me and Bubby’s laps, resting his head against me.

“I’m going to drop food on you, Benry.” Bubby complained.

“Yeah, that’s okay.” Benry replied, looking up at me. “Thinkin’ about the game?”

I shook my head. “Not quite. Just...the time we’ve gotten to spend together, over these past 13 years.”

“13?” Darnold echoed. “Damn! Time really flies by, huh?”

“Oh! Hold on, everyone just—hold on a sec.” Tommy said, quickly standing and digging through his bag. He sat back down with his little handheld camera, clicking it on. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“You pull out the camera as soon as he starts crying?” Gordon asked with a laugh.

“Well—I wanted to record anyway! It’s just, when he mentioned how long it’s been...” Tommy was smiling, but it sort of stopped reaching his eyes after he trailed off. He cleared his throat, focusing the camera on me. “Today’s our expedition, and Harold’s epilogue!”

I nodded, smiling for his camera and wiping at my eyes. “Oh, yes. I thought it would be fun, to do my epilogue on a day as exciting as this.”

“Just—ignore me. You can keep talking about what you were saying.” Tommy said, watching me through the little camera screen.

I cleared my throat, trying to remember my train of thought. “Oh, right. Well, 13 years since the game ended! And we’re all still here, together. In such a vital, _solid_ reality. I couldn’t be more happy with the way things have gone. And I’m so, so very proud of you all.”

While I talked, Benry reached up to steal noodles off my plate, which I didn’t quite mind. Sort of gross, but that’s Benry for you. I wiped at my eyes again before reaching down to pat Benry affectionately.

“Awww! That’s really sweet, Harold.” Gordon said with a wide smile, leaning against the table.

“And _you,_ Joshua—goodness, I can’t believe how old you’ve gotten!” I said, reaching over the table with my extendo-arm to tousle his hair. He looked sort of embarrassed, but allowed it. “You’re growing up to be such a fine young man! It feels like only yesterday, I met you, and you were barely as tall as the arm of the couch Bubby and I were sleeping on.”

Gordon snorted. “Oh, god, yeah. That old couch. That thing sucked.”

“It did.” Bubby agreed flatly.

“It was more comfortable than the floor.” I pointed out to them.

We ended up spending some time recounting fun stories from the last time Tommy had taken the time to record us, talking about how excited we were to go to Mars, just generally enjoying each others’ presence. Eventually, after a long night spent together, we retired to our beds; there were two rooms with two sets of bunk beds each—sort of cramped, but one can’t complain about that too much on a spaceship. Bubby ended up curling on top of me rather than taking their own bed (it was rather cold in the room, after all) as Tommy and Darnold took the beds on the other side, Benry, Joshua and Gordon taking the other room.

“Goodnight, guys.” Tommy said as he settled into bed on the top bunk.

“Goodnight!” I replied before slipping my CPAP mask on fully, adjusting the settings on the machine and closing my eyes.

****

“ _Welcome to the HEV mark 7 protective system, for use in Lambda shuttle expeditions, and in hazardous environment conditions._ ” The suit said as I locked the helmet in place. “ _Have a very safe expedition._ ”

As soon as the speakers inside my helmet were done being preoccupied by the automatic announcement, Benry’s voice immediately cut in. “ _BBBBBBB—_ ”

“Benry, c’mon!” Gordon shouted over him.

I took a deep breath. “ ** _BBBBBBBBBBB—_** ”

It was very nice of Tommy, to ensure when they were getting HEV suits custom made for us, the suits would be coordinated to our favorite colors. Mine, of course, is a bright green. Once everyone was suited up, Tommy stood by the door, in front of the control panel so nobody could rush forward without his word.

“Okay. We—we’re supposed to be collecting some rocks and then turning right back around, but, like...I was looking at everything, and we have a lot more time than Dr. Magnusson said.” Tommy said as he looked down at the clock on his wrist. “There _is_ projected to be a big dust storm later, though, so we can’t stay for like... _too_ long. Umm—don’t take anything out with you, other than the sample collection kits, we don’t wanna contaminate anything. And try to stick together in pairs, at least. The HEV suits are designed to be—to be um, really sturdy, but there’s still the chance for getting a leak in the suit if you fall or something, so make sure you—”

“Can we go?” Benry interrupted.

“Yeah, we already know all this.” Bubby added impatiently.

Tommy caved and stepped aside, opening the door for us all to file into the airlock. Bubby leapt out the instant they could, and I followed close behind them. Tommy made sure my HEV suit accommodated for my cybernetic enhancements, of course, so the first thing I did with low gravity was jump with my PowerLegs to a height I normally can’t reach.

“Harold!” Tommy said on the radio. “I asked you not to use your PowerLegs unless you had to!”

Well, maybe I shouldn’t be jumping super high, if it could potentially damage the HEV suit—but I have very low impulse control.

“Sorry, Tommy, but how could I resist?” I replied.

Down below, as I fell back down, I could see Gordon immediately falling right out of the ship, followed by Joshua who helped him back up. Benry headed out next, and Darnold simply stood by the shuttle anxiously. Tommy coaxed him out a little further while I finally landed. Bubby took me by my hands as I landed, gripped them tightly, and immediately launched me back up into the air with a loud laugh.

It was a nice view of Mars—sort of the way they depict it on TV, just not quite as bright red. Perhaps it was the dust that made it slightly harder to see, I’m not sure. I enjoyed the view as I headed back down, finally intent to explore a little bit on foot like the rest of my friends. Bubby and I were a pair, of course, helping each other collect interesting looking rocks. Bubby was intent to keep a couple for themself, of course. How could you not?

All the others were diligent as well in collecting samples like requested, except Benry, although I can’t expect that’s a surprise. He mostly hopped around with the low gravity, taking pictures of everyone and looking at their samples curiously before moving on. Well, we’d have more than plenty, anyway. Bubby and I packed away as many samples as we could and set them by the door of the shuttle, at Tommy’s request, and hopped away to explore a little more without the burden of our collection kits.

Bubby seemed to be having a wonderful time. They’d always wanted to go to space, of course—a lifelong dream finally fulfilled, after all these years. We could still see the shuttle by the time we stopped, only slightly obscured by dust flying past. We could still hear the others chattering to each other on our radios, which Bubby seemed to be fiddling with on their little arm display on their suit. Once they were done changing their frequency, they took my arm to put me on the same one.

“Alright.” They sighed. “Can’t get a quiet goddamn moment around them, sometimes.”

I chuckled a little, squeezing their hand. “Oh, but don’t you want to hear Gordon and Benry shouting at each other?”

Bubby barked out a loud laugh. “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

“At least it’s all in good fun this time.” I pointed out with a smile.

“I knew it’d be dusty here, but good god.” Bubby complained, wiping at their helmet visor. “I can barely see anything.”

“Would you like me to toss you?” I offered. “It’s quite a view from up there.”

“...Nah, I can just float, if I really wanted to.” Bubby replied. “...How are you feeling about your epilogue?”

I hummed thoughtfully. “I wonder if I waited too long. I don’t feel any particular way about it, I suppose.”

Bubby shrugged. “That’s fine. It’s not like your epilogue is your end-all for your whole life or anything.”

I nodded. “That’s true. I’m just happy that I’ve gotten to spend the time with you all. And that you’re having so much fun, of course.”

“Oh, stop.” Bubby huffed as I tapped my helmet against theirs. “I swear, you get sappier and sappier every goddamn year.”

We sat down, just enjoying a little bit of silence together as everyone else messed around. I don’t quite have the energy to join them as much these days, unfortunately, but I like to see them have fun. As I looked up at the dust-filled sky, I let out a quiet sigh.

That part of me who was anxious about the map, the one I’d comforted yesterday on the way here—the very same one who had given his life for Bubby’s—was feeling very contented by all of this. Like I had said to him, he was realizing _fully_ just how real all of this felt. There was no threat of us falling out of existence, the moment a game ended or a computer was shut off. No cruel truth of how our existence centered around what we could provide to someone else. I took in a deep breath, closing my eyes and sighing. It felt nice. Some tension I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying seemed to seep out of my body, as my head grew a little fuzzy. I shook my head, as if to shake the static away, blinking and looking back up at the sky—as if for the first time.

“Are you alright?” Bubby asked, squeezing my hand.

I nodded. I hadn’t lost any memories or anything like that, like what normally happens when I switch. This _wasn’t_ a switch, even—I knew the feeling.

This had happened a couple of times before. It took a lot of communication internally, a lot of moments that dredged up past pain, but slowly, one by one, my clones still existing separately in my body were integrating back with my own personality. Fully _merging_ back with me. I suppose this moment was enough to finally convince that part there was no reason to hold on to his fear about our world, anymore. I let out another breath. It felt strange, still sort of staticy in my head—usually there was a slight adjustment period, but at least I felt a little more at peace.

“I’m fine.” I finally told Bubby, smiling at them. “Why don’t we go join everyone else again?”

Bubby grunted as they stood, holding out their hands to help me up. I accepted their help gratefully, and they spent a moment readjusting our radios. Immediately, Benry’s mocking tone cut back in, poking fun at Gordon for something we didn’t quite catch. Tommy was recording again, so I couldn’t help but toss Bubby up in the air just for the comedic effect of it. Eventually, though, Tommy did let us know it was time to start packing up, if we wanted to make it out in time before the dust storm. We reluctantly did as he asked, filing back into the shuttle and preparing for our trip back home. Pretty soon, we were on our way, with Dr. Magnusson up in a tizzy about how much longer we took than we were meant to. Tommy shut the radio off.

“Now, I suppose we ought to have dinner, shouldn’t we?” I asked, heading towards the sliding door for the kitchen.

“No, dude, don’t trouble yourself, I was gonna cook this time.” Gordon said, quickly stepping in front of me.

“I want to, though!” I protested gently. I _do_ love to cook for my friends, even if my depleting energy levels these days has made it a little more difficult.

Gordon patted my shoulder gently with a smile. “Alright, well, I’ll help you, if you want.”

I opened my mouth to insist there was no help needed, but I let out a small sigh and nodded. “...Okay, then. Thank you, Gordon.”

There wasn’t very much space or means to make anything fancy, anyway; Gordon and I set about making a simple soup. I sat down on a stool at the counter to help chop vegetables by Gordon’s side, playing some of my favorite jazz musicians on my new “smart” phone—I don’t know why they’ve changed phones so much these days, the one I used to have was strange enough, but I do at least enjoy having my music at my fingertips like that. Gordon nudged me playfully as we worked.

“How’re you liking your epilogue?” He asked.

“I suppose it turned out to be more perfect than I had anticipated.” I replied with a smile. “The more definitive proof that there’s more outside of our day to day experiences, that exists without our prompting, was rather comforting in a way I hadn’t expected.”

“That’s good!” Gordon smiled back at me. “Y’know, I was kinda thinking the same thing, honestly. Like—all of this has been so great. Our whole lives after everything that happened, that is. But like, it’s nice to have these little moments that reminds you what we have now. Y’know?”

“I know exactly what you mean.” I said, passing the vegetables I’d chopped over to Gordon. “At the start of it, I hadn’t actually been sure if it was the right choice, to be doing an epilogue. I was worried about the whole...‘closure’ thing.”

“Oh, yeah?” Gordon asked, starting to get the soup together in a pot.

“Well—I suppose with my memory issues, sometimes, I sort of conflated ‘closure’ with ‘forgetting’. And for however difficult it all was, I didn’t _want_ to forget.” I replied thoughtfully, crossing my arms. “I hope that makes sense.”

“It does, yeah.” Gordon said with a nod. “Like, all of that made you who you are today. Informs your decisions and your choices. Even if it _sucked,_ it still ends up being you. Y’know?”

I nodded in agreement. “I suppose it sort of comes with the territory of learning to accept the other aspects of my personality, if that makes sense—to try and dismiss the circumstances feels too close to trying to dismiss the personality parts that came out of it, I suppose.”

“Huh. Yeah, that makes sense.” Gordon said, stirring the pot carefully. “Yeah. I guess, it also sorta like...well, I don’t know how to word it. I’m just happy to be here now, is all, I guess.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

We all ate dinner together, enjoyed each others’ presence some more. After we stayed up a little too late again, we eventually retired to our beds, Bubby taking their spot on top of me. I sighed in deep contentment, enjoying the feeling of their breath on my skin.

“Goodnight, guys.” Tommy said again once he was comfortable.

I smiled, tangling my fingers in Bubby’s hair. I’m very, very glad I’ve chosen to do an epilogue, actually. This was a good expedition, and a good time to show how far we’ve all come since the last epilogue, I think.

“Goodnight, everyone.”


	62. Tommy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: discussion of past For Real major character death (sorry!)
> 
> this one's gonna be kinda different than the others!! also alas we're at our only single chapter update....the Last update......

The camera was very nearly pressed against a car window as they began to pass the UFO museum in Roswell, New Mexico. Beads of rain stuck to the glass, being forcibly rolled down along the side by the wind around the car.

“Wait—Gordon, you’re passing it.” Bubby’s voice said.

“I know, I know, I missed my turn. Shit.” Gordon sighed. “Just a sec. I’ll pull into that gas station and turn around.”

Any viewer watching this footage could see the faint reflection of the camera in the window and, by extension, the cameraman—Tommy Coolatta. Tommy turned the camera, sat in the very back seat. Ahead, one could see Bubby in the middle seat, sandwiched between Benry and Harold. Joshua sat in the passenger seat with Gordon at the wheel, muttering as he carefully navigated the car around the gas station parking lot. The camera then turned to Darnold sat beside Tommy, who looked ahead calmly before taking notice to Tommy recording him. He immediately smiled shyly, looking down at his lap and shrinking down a little.

“Hi, Tommy.” Darnold said with a small snicker.

“Where are we going?” Tommy asked him.

“The UFO museum, for some reason.” Darnold answered, turning away from the camera.

“‘Cuz it’s funny.” Benry added. The camera turned back to Benry, who was turned around to look into the camera. He made a peace sign at it and sang sweet voice to show he was excited.

“Are you recording again?” Bubby asked with a huff.

“Yeah.”

“Hello, future us!” Harold greeted, turning awkwardly with a wide smile.

“Well, I dunno if they’re gonna let us record in the museum.” Gordon warned.

“So? Whatever. What’re they gonna do? Kick us out?” Benry asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Yeah, I mean, maybe. We’ve been kicked out of plenty of places, dude.” Gordon reminded him with a laugh.

“What’s the point of a UFO museum like this if there’s already aliens on the planet?” Joshua asked. “Like, what’s so interesting about it? My history teacher is a vortigaunt.”

“Well, they had to get here somehow.” Benry said.

Joshua laughed. “No, that’s not what I mean! It’s the clearly fake stuff that’s in here, right?”

“The _very_ clearly fake junk.” Bubby complained. “Some people are so gullible.”

“It’s the mystery and the drama that draws people in.” Harold pointed out.

“Yeah, I dunno. This world is like, weirdly mashed together. Some things don’t really entirely make sense.” Gordon replied with a shrug as the car pulled up into the parking lot. “Back when—”

The video cut suddenly, displaying a black screen before moving on to the next video.

There was a shot of Tommy’s bright neon shoes before the camera panned up suddenly, zooming in on the model display of several gangly green aliens with large heads and massive black eyes. Benry stepped into the shot, pointing at one of them.

“You know that guy?” He asked.

Tommy snorted. “No.”

“What about him?” He asked, pointing at the one next to it.

“No! I could—I could ask _you_ the same thing.” Tommy pointed out, approaching and pulling Benry’s hat down over his eyes.

“Huh? No. You already saw where the Nihilanth comes from. You know I don’t know these guys.” Benry said, fixing his hat. “I don’t know where _you_ come from. You could know any of ‘em, and I wouldn’t know.”

“Well—I don’t know, either. I grew up here.” Tommy told him, moving along past the display. “You know more about where the Nihilanth comes from. So—umm, is that correct?”

Tommy pointed up at one of the displays of model spaceships.

“Whuh...? I dunno. _You’re_ the one building a spaceship.” Benry said, nudging the camera to a different display and pointing at it. “That’s the spaceship you came in on when you were a baby.”

Tommy laughed as he turned the camera away from the spaceship, zooming in on Bubby and Harold. Bubby was holding Harold’s hand, clearly debunking every aspect of the current display they were looking at as Harold nodded in deep interest. He zoomed way in on them for a long few moments before turning to get a shot of Gordon and Joshua, both touching a display they clearly weren’t meant to be touching.

Tommy let out a sharp yell of surprise suddenly before exhaling deeply, a hint of a chuckle audible to the camera. “Hi, Darnold.” He said as he turned the camera towards Darnold. Darnold held onto Tommy’s shoulders, laughing after successfully startling Tommy.

“Hey! I’m back.” Darnold greeted. The viewer couldn’t see it as Tommy trained the camera down at the floor for a moment, but they could potentially hear the very faint sound of a kiss.

They moved on in the museum, Tommy next zooming in on a display behind glass of what seemed to be some sort of event where someone was about to perform an autopsy on an alien cadaver. In the corner of the screen, one could see Darnold pointing at the display.

“That’s gonna be Tommy when he gets his top surgery.” Darnold said.

Benry and Gordon both burst out into raucous laughter as Tommy giggled behind the camera.

There were more shots of other displays, Benry and Darnold making plenty of jokes about Tommy being an alien, Gordon, Joshua, and Harold touching more things they weren’t supposed to be touching, and Bubby going on long rants about how asinine it all was. Suddenly, a vortigaunt stepped up, asking the group to leave, due to their excessive noise and touching of things that weren’t meant to be touched.

The video cut.

The next video began with a long shot of the sky. Partly cloudy, but mostly beautifully bright and blue. The camera person, clearly Benry, began to sing sweet voice, glinting in the sun gently as the orbs floated away.

The camera suddenly panned down. He was just outside a little gazebo with several chairs set out in front of it. A couple tables were set to the side with food, Gordon currently making sure it was all arranged nicely in his classic wedding outfit. He looked up at the camera, smiling and waving at it before returning to his work. Benry approached the table, zooming in carefully on a tiny cheesecake for a long few seconds, really making sure to get its good angles.

“Dude, quit filming the food, save some time on the memory card.” Gordon said.

“I’m sure Tommy’ll wanna remember the cake.” Benry argued, lifting the cake on its little plate to get a shot of it beside Gordon. Then he zoomed in on Gordon’s unamused face.

“C’mon, man, help me set up here.” Gordon said.

The video cut, changing shortly after to a scenic shot of the gazebo as the camera was being set on a tripod. Darnold was already standing on one side of the gazebo with Harold behind him, holding a clipboard. Harold, just like Gordon, was also wearing his old wedding suit—Darnold had on a new dress, though, still orange like the old one, but much more elaborate and dragging on the floor of the gazebo. Gordon’s chest suddenly obscured the shot as he made sure the camera was set up correctly before kneeling down in front of it, pushing up his glasses on his face.

“...‘Kay, think that’s good.” Gordon muttered to himself.

He stood up and headed past the seats, where one could see the remainder of the Science Team and the Lambda team sitting, aside from Bubby and Tommy. Gordon joined Darnold and Harold on the gazebo, standing behind Darnold and squeezing his shoulder. Darnold smiled, putting his hand on Gordon’s before music began to play.

Everyone turned their attention away off-camera for a long few moments. Darnold pressed his hands to his face as Tommy joined him on the gazebo with Bubby by his side. Bubby wrapped Tommy up into a tight hug before leaving the gazebo, and Tommy stepped up to take Darnold’s hands in his own.

It was a beautiful wedding—unfortunately, the video cut there, presumably due to Benry’s tampering with the camera earlier. It picked up again later, though, with a shot of Gordon’s fancy shoes.

“Goddammit.” Gordon sighed quietly. “That fucking sucks.”

“What’s wrong?” Darnold asked off camera.

“I’m _really_ sorry, man, the camera shut off sometime during the ceremony.”

“Oh, don’t sweat it.” Darnold replied casually. “We can still get the rest of the wedding, right? I mean, I’m less concerned about the long speeches, and more concerned about everyone else having a good time.”

“Yeah. I changed things out, it should be good now.” Gordon said, finally moving the camera up to get a shot of Darnold. Darnold was in the middle of eating one of the tiny cheesecakes.

“Well—don’t film me while I’m eating.” Darnold complained, covering his mouth.

Gordon laughed. “Alright, I’ll film Tommy.”

The camera zoomed in on Tommy instead as he was currently chugging something from a glass bottle with Benry’s encouragement. He finished chugging and looked down at Benry with a wide smile before noticing the camera on him. His face flushed a little as he covered it with his hands, his wedding ring proudly displayed on his finger.

“Hey, c’mon, look at the camera!” Gordon urged.

Tommy uncovered his face, but he immediately walked up to Darnold, burying it in his shoulder instead. Darnold covered his face as well, still in the middle of eating a cheesecake.

“Film someone else!” Darnold urged through a mouthful of food.

“It’s your wedding, guys, you don’t want me filming you?” Gordon laughed.

“Look at Harold.” Tommy said.

Gordon turned, just in time to watch Lambda Gordon experimentally hitting Harold in the chest with a metal chair. Harold didn’t react at all, just standing proudly with his hands on his hips.

“I have the finest of Black Mesa cybernetics, Gordon!” Harold boasted.

“How come your Black Mesa had cool cybernetics, but the one from our universe didn’t?” Alyx complained.

“I don’t know, Alyx, that’s probably for the best. Can you imagine if _Magnusson_ was this beefed up?” Barney pointed out with a chuckle. Lambda Gordon doubled over laughing.

“Oh, even with cybernetics, Dr. Magnusson could never compare to _these guns!_ ” Harold exclaimed, characteristically ripping off his sleeves to show off.

Sunkist barked excitedly as she joined the shot, getting up on her hind legs to lick Harold’s face for a second before looping back around towards Tommy. Gordon followed her as she hopped up on Tommy next, barking sweet voice into his face. She was wearing a nice orange and yellow ribbon around her neck to match Tommy and Darnold’s outfits.

“Hi, Sunkist.” Tommy said, burying his face in her fur.

The video cut, changing to a shot quickly zooming in on Tommy and Darnold dancing. They were _really_ good, even improved after they danced together at Harold and Bubby’s wedding—the product of them taking dance classes together in their spare time. Sunkist kind of got in their way, though, prancing in circles around them and barking eagerly. The camera then turned to Bubby and Joshua sat at the side, talking about Joshua’s current interest in terraforming, then Benry and Gordon, who were both leaned against one of the tables and talking about something the camera couldn’t pick up. Gordon suddenly nudged Benry playfully as he laughed, Benry getting a wide smile on his face. Gordon wrapped an arm around Benry’s shoulders as he stood on his toes to kiss Gordon on the cheek. It turned back to Tommy and Darnold as they tripped over Sunkist, falling on top of each other and laughing.

“Are you two alright?” Harold called from behind the camera.

“We’re good!” Darnold called back through his laughter.

The camera quickly panned down towards the ground, and immediately, the video cut.

The next shot showed Tommy, sat in the driver’s seat and focusing on the road. It was dark out, city lights zipping past in the window to Tommy’s side. The camera person was sat in the passenger’s seat, zooming in on his face, then moving down to zoom in a little more on his wedding ring.

“Are you recording me?” Tommy asked.

The camera zoomed out and panned back up to his face. “Yeah.” Darnold replied.

Tommy smiled, holding up his hand to cover his face. “Well, I’m driving, so...”

Darnold turned the camera to focus on the road in front of them. “Yeah, but the video cut out during our vows, I wanted to preserve the moment a little more.”

Tommy chuckled. “Well, we can redo the vows—umm, we can redo them later for the camera, if you want.”

“Well, I dunno, I just noticed you’re the one always recording stuff most of the time. You want stuff with you in it, too. So I thought I’d record you in a natural moment.”

“Well—it’s not _me_ that needs to be recorded. I wanna record all of _you_ guys.”

Darnold turned the camera back to Tommy. “There’s plenty with the rest of us.”

Tommy smiled back at Darnold, but didn’t reply to that as he turned his eyes back to the road.

“Did you have fun at the wedding?” Darnold asked.

“Yeah. Did you?”

“I did! Of course.” Darnold said with a small laugh. “I think it went really well. Thanks for marrying me.”

Tommy snorted, shaking his head a little. “Well—yeah, of course. Umm—I guess we’d better stop for gas.”

“Oh, yeah. Oka—”

The video cut.

The next video picked up on a shot of Bubby, standing on the rolling staircase to access a part of the shuttle they were currently assisting with building. Bubby hissed as they dropped a screwdriver, leaning over the railing to look at it.

“I’ll get it.” Tommy said behind the camera. He leaned over to pick up the screwdriver.

“Are you recording this?” Bubby asked as Tommy held up the screwdriver.

“Yeah—since umm, you guys don’t always help out, I wanted to preserve it.”

“That’s very sweet, Tommy!” Harold called from the other side of the ship.

“Well, it’s not going to be very exciting.” Bubby said as they turned back to their work.

“That’s okay.”

“Go film Harold or something, you’re going to distract me.” Bubby complained.

Tommy zoomed in on the panel they were currently working on. “It’s not like we have to—umm, like we’re on a strict schedule or anything. It’s fine. Tell me how far we are in development.”

“You know more than I do.” Bubby pointed out. “But it shouldn’t be too much longer until it’s done. We’re working on the exterior hull right now.”

Bubby flicked their fingers, creating a flame from their fingertip like a blowtorch to use on the panel.

“Oh, I’m _very_ excited for an expedition!” Harold called from the other side.

“Yeah. This is very fine work, Tommy. You’ve sort of outdone yourself.” Bubby said a little quieter as they kept their eyes firmly on the panel.

“Well—I’m not doing it alone. You’re the one building right now.”

“But the design work you did was very good.” Bubby pointed out, glancing down at him. “I’m...very proud of you.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Tommy finally replied. “Thanks, Bubby!”

“Ahh—ouch.” Harold grunted on the other side.

“Are you o—” Tommy began to say, cut off by the video cutting.

The next one started with a shot of Joshua standing in Gordon’s kitchen, looking up into the camera as he held a large cake in his hands, reading “HAPPI BITHDAY GORON” in Benry’s clumsy handwriting.

“Okay. I’m recording.” Tommy announced behind the camera.

Joshua started walking out of the kitchen to the dining area, where Tommy zoomed in on Gordon sitting at the table with one of his usual exhausted smiles. All but Gordon began a long, sort of discordant rendition of “happy birthday” as Joshua set the cake down on the table, Gordon burying his face in his hands until the song was over.

“Happy birthday, Gordon!” Tommy said behind the camera.

“Thanks, guys.” Gordon said, unburying his face and leaning in to blow out the candles on it. He pulled them out afterward as Benry stepped up behind him, immediately grabbing him by the back of his head and shoving his face down into the cake.

“Benry! The cake!” Bubby complained loudly.

Gordon sat back up, his glasses dripping with cake. He took them off and grabbed a fistful of cake impulsively, throwing it right into Benry’s face. Benry wiped some of it off his face so he could hold it in his hand and munch on it.

“Good cake.” Benry complimented.

“...Thanks.” Darnold replied flatly.

“Here, Gordon.” Harold said, handing Gordon a damp towel. He accepted it with a smile, cleaning his face off.

“Ummm—this is still...we can cut it like...” Gordon said once his face was clean, taking the knife and trying to cut it strategically.

“No, if you do it like _this..._ ” Tommy said, reaching in to take the knife from him and cut it to his vision. “There. You get the part of it your face was in.”

Gordon laughed, accepting the destroyed portion of it. “Thanks.”

“How old are you, now?” Tommy asked as he took a seat in front of Gordon, zooming in on his face.

Gordon snorted as the rest of the cake was distributed to everyone else. “It said on the cake! You know how old I am.”

“Yeah, but—say it for the camera.”

Gordon looked away sheepishly. “I’m—umm...”

“You don’t remember?” Joshua asked with a laugh.

“Listen, man, you get to be in your 30’s, and it suddenly starts mattering a little less.” Gordon said, starting to clean off his glasses as well.

“You’re 41, Gordon.” Tommy pointed out.

“What? Am I?” Gordon asked incredulously.

“Yeah, man, that’s the candles we got, at least.” Benry said, stealing another fistful of cake from Gordon’s plate.

Joshua laughed as Gordon stared off into space for a moment. “Oh, yeah. Huh. 41. _Man._ ”

“Open your present I got you.” Tommy said, zooming in on a neatly wrapped box to the side.

“I haven’t even finished my cake!” Gordon protested with a laugh.

“Yeah, but—I wanna eat my cake, just open it first so I can put the camera down.”

“Okay, sure.” Gordon replied, setting down his fork and reaching for the box. He tore it open, revealing a new headset with a custom design of his Twitch.TV logo. “Oh, shit! This is awesome! Thanks, Tommy.”

“Of course!” Tommy replied. “Okay. I’m gonna—”

“Wait!” Benry blurted out, grabbing his present he’d poorly wrapped. “Before Tommy stops recording, open mine, too.”

Gordon took one look at the messily wrapped present and let out a deep groan. “Dude! I know what this fucking is! You didn’t even _try_ to be subtle.”

“C’mooon, open it.” Benry insisted with a mischievous smile.

Gordon sighed, accepting the present and unwrapping it. He didn’t look surprised in the slightest as he revealed a strange ceramic sculpture of a gnome in sunglasses wearing a bathing suit to the camera, an unimpressed look on his face as Benry laughed hysterically.

“Enough with that goddamn gnome!” Bubby shouted. “You two have regifted that stupid thing to each other every goddamn year! I’m sick of looking at it.”

“How do you think _I_ feel?” Gordon demanded.

“You got custody of him ‘till my birthday, bro.” Benry said, pulling Gordon in close and kissing the side of his head. “Happy birthday, man.”

An exhausted smile finally broke out on his face as he held the stupid gnome, turning to Benry and kissing him back. “Thanks, you fucking weirdo.”

The video cut.

“Hey, man.”

I sigh, looking to my side as I watch Benry enter the main room of the shuttle. I don’t bother changing the screen in front of me as it moves on to another video of Gordon’s 41st birthday party. Benry sits down beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“You okay?” He asks, looking at the screen.

I frown, looking down to stroke Sunkist’s head, currently rested on my lap.

We sit there quietly for a while, watching the screen. The warp drive hums below us as it charges up again. We’ve made it a lot quieter in the past few years, so it’s barely noticeable, easily fading into the background as we watch ourselves in the past playing some party game. Gordon’s getting all worked up and competitive. He always did.

Eventually, the videos catch up to the last one I recorded on this camera, and the screen returns to the main menu. We both sit there in silence beside each other until I finally break it.

“You sleep okay?” I ask Benry.

Benry nods. “Yeah.”

We sit there in silence for a little while longer, before Benry hits the button to convert the floor so we have those booth seats around the dining table. He takes my arm and drags me down to sit with him, wrapping his arms around me and sighing. I have to readjust myself a lot, considering our extreme height difference, but I lean in and bury my face in his shoulder. Sunkist joins, too, draping herself across our laps. Benry doesn’t say anything. That’s fine. There’s...nothing he could really say right now that would make me feel any better than what he’s doing for me now. Just being here.

>...

>I waited too long for mine. Sorry about that. I was just sort of hoping to let the videos run, let that be my epilogue, but...I thought Benry would be asleep for a little while longer, and I guess now the cat is out of the bag.

>After...well, there was a point where I just didn't think it was worth it to even consider doing one, anymore. It's been a while since all of that, anyway. Benry and I have been in space for a good while now.

>The shuttle is really self-sufficient now. A lot bigger than it used to be, even though there's less people to occupy it. It makes it a lot lonelier, to be honest.

>.......

>Sorry. I guess this isn't a really nice epilogue. Maybe, if I was going to do one at all, I should've waited until I was feeling better. I guess I only started it BECAUSE it's a pretty bad grief day, though. The epilogue feels like...my only tie back to them right now.

>Maybe I can pause it and pick it up another time.

****

The shuttle has more bedrooms, now. Before taking it for our long—probably permanent—trip away from Earth, I spent the time converting two of them to just be like normal bedrooms. Just regular beds instead of bunk beds, actual full closet space, and desks in each one. We just use the other rooms for storage space. Benry ends up hanging out in my room a lot while I sleep, though, so he’s pretty much taken up my whole desk with his stuff, which I don’t really mind. I like the background noise. Then I sorta return the favor on the days he sleeps, usually. Neither of us really like to spend too much time alone. It gets too quiet on the shuttle without each other.

We make it work, though. We’re not completely secluded, either; we’ve gotten far enough out that we actually encounter planets with other intelligent life. That’s fun. We’re living sort of a real-life sci-fi drama right now—universal translators, our own rogue shuttle, getting in and out of trouble. It’s pretty cool. It’s like...Star Trek? Except it’s just us, we’re not a really official expedition. Firefly? Guardians of the Galaxy? I don’t know, I haven’t watched any human movies or shows in a really long time, except old favorites of Star Trek. It’s been probably an alarming amount of years—except it’s hard to keep track with time dilations and stuff in space, plus...I’m not really counting.

I guess it feels like a really unexpected turn, for just me, Sunkist, and Benry to be going through space adventures. But we knew we’d live longer than the rest of our friends when we agreed to come to this world. We can’t just sit around forever, avoiding moving on with our lives or anything.

I don’t regret it. Any of it. The time we spent together was really good, even if it had to end eventually. And that’s okay. I have bad days and good days. So does Benry. But you know, we have each other, at least.

Benry and I are in a market right now, Sunkist keeping an eye on the shuttle. We’re in a system that shares a lot of exports, so we recognize a lot of the stuff we could pick up already. I used to wear my HEV suit at all times to play it safe outside the shuttle, but both me and Benry can breathe just fine in a lot of other atmospheres—my body can actually accommodate for a lot of stuff I didn’t know about before. And Benry’s never had any problems either, and Sunkist seems to be comfortable with pretty much anything. So instead of our old oxygen supply system, we were able to replace it with something a lot more compact we picked up on another planet a while back that works a lot easier to provide _us_ a way to breathe, it’s just that if...

Well. It works for us.

“Oh, shit, let’s get more’a these.” Benry says, pointing out a couple packages of some sort of snack food that tastes a lot like flaming hot Cheetos, except they’re sort of cookie-ish in shape and texture. I stick my tongue out in disgust.

“I don’t know. We can only take a limited amount of stuff, we should save it for—umm, for like, more important things.” I point out thoughtfully.

“Well, y’know, I can always...” Benry gives me a look. I know the look.

We’ve resorted to stealing before, when absolutely necessary to keep us going. I feel bad, though, stealing in this system where they’re good to travelers like us, and we don’t really _need_ it. We should take the opportunity to stock up, but...little comforts like this go a long way sometimes.

“Hmmmm...alright, I mean, we don’t have to steal, but let’s get them.” I say, accepting the package Benry hands me.

I do wish the others could have seen all this. I think Bubby would have been fascinated by all of it. Gordon and Darnold might be a little put off. Maybe Gordon would adapt faster, but Darnold would’ve taken a bit of coaxing. He didn’t like it when he didn’t know what to expect out of something, and there’s not a whole lot of predictability out here. Joshua and Harold were pretty adventurous, though, they would’ve loved all these new sights.

...It really is too bad.

“ _Hey._ ”

I sort of ignore the voice at first, assuming they’re not talking to me or Benry. When I feel someone tap my shoulder, though, I finally turn around. Oh, I know this type of alien—from a really old system we passed through a while ago. Back when we were sort of panicking about our oxygen supply in our shuttle. They’re only slightly taller than me, but I’m pretty tall, so they tower over Benry. They’re sorta bug-like, with really sharp talons on what look like almost disproportionately large hands. The talons are _not_ great to get caught by.

“Yeah?” I ask, except, well, I’m sort of preparing to stop time and open up a doorway back to the shuttle—I’m pretty sure I know where this is going.

“You Tommy Coolatta and Benry?” The alien asks, looking us over.

“Nnnnnno...?” I try sheepishly.

“Nah, bro, you got the wrong guys, trust me.” Benry says, starting to walk away.

“Hey! I’m not done with you two yet.” The alien says, grabbing Benry by the back of his hoodie, sort of ripping into it with their talons. Benry whirls around with a furious look, gripping the alien’s wrist to untangle its talons from his hoodie.

“ _Don’t_ touch the fucking hood, man.” Benry growls. He’s pretty protective of it—it’s hard to replace out here.

“You think you could get away to another system? You two are still wanted for stealing that atmosphere generator.” The alien says, reaching for his gun.

“You can’t—you can’t do this here, this is a protected space!” I protest.

Well, _he_ doesn’t seem to care about intergalactic law, because he just points the gun in my face. That’s space bounty hunters for you, though. I just sigh and freeze time, opening up a doorway into the void and nodding for Benry to follow. We both get back to the ship with ease. I guess, technically, we’ve already stolen the supplies we’re currently holding...it’s just too complicated being a criminal, I _really_ hate it.

“Uhhh—let’s go.” I say, quickly opening up the door for our shuttle. I have to unfreeze time so the warp drive can warm up, though, so we kinda have to hurry.

“Hey!” More of those aliens shout from their own ship parked nearby. They draw their own guns, immediately taking aim to try and attack the shuttle to disable it before we can take off.

Benry just rolls his eyes and summons some of those energy balls he gets from the Nihilanth to retaliate with while I run inside and start up the warp drive, Sunkist barking out aggressive sweet voice at our attackers. It’s a lot faster to start up, now, but it still does take longer than I’d like. Quickly, though, after Benry destroys their ship, he teleports right back into the shuttle just in time for us to warp.

I breathe out a deep sigh of relief, now that we’re out of the planet’s atmosphere and on our way out of the system.

“A clean getaway! Ahaaah!” Benry cackles as he plops down in the seat next to mine, taking out that package full of shitty Cheeto-ish cookies to start munching on one. Sunkist huffs, putting her head in my lap and licking my hand.

I sigh and bury my face in Sunkist as the drive charges back up. “Not really,” I mutter.

“Are they gonna chase us for fucking ever?” Benry complains through a mouthful of his food, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head to rest against. “I mean, it’s one atmosphere thingy, don’t they got better things to do?”

I shrug, looking back at the console to make sure I don’t need to adjust our course. “I’m sure they’ll move on eventually. It’s stopped being cost effective to, um, to keep hunting us, so...”

I frown as the console freezes up underneath my fingers. I tilt my head as I try to get the course display back up while Benry starts absent-mindedly playing an old music playlist. The first song that plays is In The End by Linkin Park.

“H-...huh. Did something get hit before we took off?” I ask Benry.

“Huh?”

I nod at the console. The screen is starting to black out.

“Oh. I dunno. Want me to go out ‘n check?”

“Yeah, maybe.” I say, putting my hand to my chin.

Benry stands and disappears immediately. He can survive out in space just fine without a suit, so he usually does checks and stuff for me, and has gotten pretty good at repairs honestly. I can survive out there too for a bit, it just gets really uncomfortable after about a minute or two. He comes back in really soon after, the warp drive about halfway charged up again.

“Dunno. Looks fine out there to me.” Benry says with a shrug.

“Huh.” I say, crossing my arms. “I guess it’s not an issue until later. It’s probably better to just—like, just keep going, get some distance between us and those guys.”

Benry nods, taking out another one of his snacks. “Yeah, sounds good to me.”

I wait a while to actually open up the control panel and try and check what’s wrong with it. I roll up my sleeves before getting into the wiring, unplugging one of them to manually reset it. I sit back with the wire in my hand, counting in my head—best to wait a minute before plugging it back in. In the reflection of the dark screen, I can see myself. I guess my aging has sort of plateaued; I still look like I’m about in my 50’s, I have for a while. Sometimes, when I catch my reflection...I look so much like G-Man.

It used to bother me a lot more. Darnold was always so sweet about it, which helped a lot. He would say things about how I hold myself differently, I’m more expressive—I have a warmer presence than G-Man does, I guess. Or, did. I don’t actually know if he’s still around or not. If he “fizzled out”, like the player said, or if he’s still off living his own life somewhere else entirely.

I wonder sometimes if that was the best choice, leaving him behind. But I mean...I don’t know. I’m sure the player knows what he’s doing with him, and he didn’t give us any reason to trust him if he came with us. He had every opportunity to stop and listen to me, but he just didn’t. He didn’t value the lives of my real family, and...well, to me, that’s unforgivable. Even if he ended up being right about how quickly they died, compared to my lifespan, they still mean the world to me, even after so long of them being gone—I’d rather have spent that time with them than an eternity with G-Man.

I plug the control panel back in. It reconnects, but picks up right back where it left off; which shouldn’t be possible, it should have reset everything. Weird. _Suspiciously_ weird. From what little I can glean from whenever the screen blinks on long enough for me to check our course, it looks like it’s been extended from what I hastily set. Really, _really_ weird.

“I think—umm, I think we have a situation.” I call to Benry, who’s currently in the kitchen.

“Wuh-oh.” Benry calls back calmly, returning with some food he’d just heated up. “What do we do?”

I can only shrug. “I don’t know. I guess—ummm, I guess I could force the warp drive to stop entirely and land us somewhere else to figure it out. But I don’t really wanna use up the fuel unless we have to. We could also just see what happens.”

Benry nods. “Yeah, let’s fuck around and find out.” He says through a mouthful of food.

“Okay. Sure.”

The course we’re on is going to take a while. I spend a little while up with Benry, trying to figure it out without turning anything else off, but eventually, I’m feeling pretty exhausted. I yawn and stretch down in the engine room, pressing the intercom button.

“Benry, I think I’m gonna get some sleep.” I say to him. “Can you watch out and wake me up if something happens?”

Benry sings back. I can’t see the sweet voice, but he’d probably use words if he had to say no, so I assume it’s a yes and head to my room, Sunkist draping herself on top of me. I get in a good few hours of sleep, but honestly, something feels off. I’m not really sure what to think of what’s going on, but I have a pretty bad feeling in my stomach as I drift off.

I’m woken up by Benry sliding the door to my room open, singing at me to get my attention. I sit up, rubbing at my eyes while I look at the colors Benry chose for the sweet voice. He needs me for something.

Sunkist jumps off of me and I stand, following Benry out to the main room of the shuttle. There’s...something outside our shuttle. It’s _big_ , and really really bright; it’s these really bright columns of white light in a row, sort of in a diamond shape. Our communications screen is up; there’s no visual, though, just static.

“Back.” Benry says, leaning against the control panel.

“Hello?” I ask, sitting down in the chair closest to the communications screen.

“Tommy Coolatta.” A voice says, the lights wavering outside. The voice is so staticy, it’s kind of hard to understand it—but I don’t just hear it with my ears. I can sort of feel the voice in my head. I furrow my brow, crossing my arms. It’s not totally unusual to have aliens that can speak directly into your head, honestly, but...huh.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“We have waited many decades for your arrival.” The voice says. “It has been a long time since we last received...a report.”

I tilt my head, looking at Benry. He just shrugs.

“A report?” I echo.

“Yes. From your...father.”

My eyes widen as I grip my sleeves tightly in my fists. I honestly don’t know what to say. It all snaps into place—this must be one of the “employers” G-Man was talking about, how he could use my help, whatever. That was so long ago, though. I honestly sort of forgot he was employed by anyone at all.

“Based on the reports received, and what we’ve observed from your travels since then, we believe you could prove to be a very useful candidate to replace your father, now that he is...indisposed.” The voice goes on. “Although the Combine no longer poses a threat, there remains much more to be done. Your help could be...invaluable.”

I frown, crossing my arms a little tighter. I still don’t know what to say.

“Tommy Coolatta. Would you like to be a part of something...greater than yourself?”

I look back up at Benry, who stares back down at me expectantly. I swallow hard.

“Um.” I manage to say. “Can I ask something first?”

“Of course.”

“You—you knew my dad. Of course.” I say, scooting up to sit on the edge of my seat. I spend a minute trying to figure out how to word my question, but honestly, I might as well just go for the kill. “Why the fuck was he like that?”

“...Please elaborate.”

“We—you received his reports. I don’t know what was in them, but like—...were you telling him to do all that?” I ask, leaning in closer to the screen. “How much do you know about reality?”

“We are aware of the situation with...reality, yes.” The voice replies. “We pieced it together, through your father’s reports and other investigative means.”

“Yeah, so like—if the Combine didn’t technically exist, then why did he take us to Half Life 2, where—where they existed, just to fight them?” I question. “We were all trying to move on and just...be normal. He could have, too. He reached out, he acted—umm, he acted like he cared, and like...I’ve come to terms with a lot of stuff involving him. But it’s still...what the fuck?”

“Your father provided us a very particular...function.” They reply slowly. “We suppose, perhaps, during the prolonged lack of contact, he could not envision anything else he was meant to be...occupying himself with.”

“So...he just couldn’t break out of what you guys told him to do?”

“The Combine was a very...formidable foe. An immense amount of time was spent fighting them. We find, even when a long-term task is genuinely completed by those we employ, they cannot imagine continuing on without that task to occupy themselves with. It takes time to...deprogram.” The voice explains. “It would not be unusual for something like this to happen. Prolonging the task, in order to continue having...a purpose.”

I lean back in my chair. That’s kind of frustrating, kind of understandable. I don’t really know what to think, other than the fact that it _really_ solidifies that I don’t wanna work for these guys.

“Tommy Coolatta. We believe we have found a way to break out of this...reality.” The voice says. “With your help, we could be free. _Genuinely_ free. But... _only_ with your help.”

“...What? Break out?”

“Yes. You are one of the most developed beings in this entire...reality.” The voice goes on. “You, Tommy Coolatta, could break us free from this prison. Would you like to be...free, Tommy?”

I look up at Benry. He’s drumming his fingers on the panel as he leans against it, looking up thoughtfully. When he notices I’m looking at him, he sings sweet voice at me to show he doesn’t think this is a good idea. I don’t think it is, either.

“...No thanks.” I say. “Umm—are you controlling my ship?”

“...Tommy.” The employer says. “Why don’t you...reconsider?”

“Uhhh...no. I’m good.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Were you, like—were you there? The whole time?” I ask them.

“...Not technically. We received your father’s reports...after your arrival. Your father’s existence in this world is a complex subject—technically, we had contact with him many years prior to your arrival. As such, we do believe his...‘backstory’, if you will, happened in _this_ universe, retroactively. However, of course, he is not here in the present. The timeline is...convoluted, and not worth thinking too hard on.”

“O-oh. Uhh, okay. Well, I mean...this place is pretty good. Like—it’s self-sustaining. It’s about as real as we could ever possibly—like, it’s so much approximating ‘reality’ that it really doesn’t even matter to make the distinction, anymore. We’re good.”

“But it _isn’t_ real.”

I shrug. “So?”

The voice on the other end doesn’t reply.

“Yeah, man, I dunno, it’s fine.” Benry adds. “Seems like we’d just be asking for trouble if we started fucking around with this place. We don’t need anything else.”

“But there could be _so much more._ ”

“Hmmm...I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I say. “Can you let go of our shuttle? We gotta get moving.”

“Tommy.”

I sigh a little in frustration. “Yeah?”

“Is this truly enough for you?”

I pause to think about it, looking at Benry again. It’s...well...

We’ve lost a lot. But we’ve also gained a lot. We have a life together. Both of us are going to die eventually, ourselves, too. There’s so much left for us to do and see, in our time left. That’s more than enough.

“Yeah.” I say definitively. “Can we go now?”

There’s a long silence before the control panel blinks back to life.

“We will be in touch, in the future.” The voice says.

Benry makes his mocking, “neh neh neh” noises at them. I can't help but snicker a little.

“Okay. Bye.” I say.

The communication drops, and the lights disappear, leaving me alone with Sunkist and Benry.

“Man. Weirdos.” Benry sighs, sitting back down properly in the other chair.

I laugh a little, reaching over him to plot a new course. “Yeah.”

We continue on our course for a while, heading to the next system over, where we heard there were some cool preserved planets we could camp out on for a bit. We started this trip first to see if I could figure out where G-Man came from, where I came from technically...we haven’t found it just yet. Maybe we never will. I’ll still look, see if I can find out more about who I am, which would be really cool to figure out without my dad’s whole influence. But if I don’t...well, that’s fine, ultimately. I still have Benry and Sunkist. That’s enough.

Eventually, I head back to my room, Benry following behind me to set up at my desk again for the night. I flop into bed, Sunkist stepping up to drape herself over me again. I like the pressure on my chest, and she’s always been a cuddly dog. The best dog—the most perfect in all of existence. I yawn, enjoying the sound of Benry tapping away at his computer. I can’t see very well what he’s doing from the angle I’m at, but it sort of looks like he’s alone in a chatroom right now.

“Night, Tommy.” Benry says as I finally settle down.

...I guess this is the last epilogue. The end of it all, for you. That’s pretty weird to think about. You’ve been following along with us for such a long time. Huh. Well...oh, I don’t know, I’m not good at thinking of good things to say in times like this. So I guess, just...thanks for your interest? Thanks for being there for our ups and downs. Thanks for caring.

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL...THAT'S IT! thank you all so much for reading, and huge thanks to everyone who left comments!!!! i've never been very good at responding to comments but i've always read every single one and appreciated them so much!!! this fic was so much fun to write and it was even more fun to see reactions to everything that was going on!!!! wild that....this is It lol i've been working on this whole story for like. six months at this point i think, if i'm including the time spent on could i try again?? what do i do now lol
> 
> uhh idk anyway thanks again so much for reading!!!!! <3 <3 <3


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